


A Terrible Mistake

by Antarctica_or_bust



Series: A Matter of Perspective [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Battle Of Five Armies, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fic Spans Years, Fíli POV, Fíli as King, Homophobia, Kid Fic, Kíli has a filthy mouth, M/M, Mirkwood, POV First Person, POV Outsider, Relationship Sabotage, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-07 11:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarctica_or_bust/pseuds/Antarctica_or_bust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fíli tries to sabotage his brother's romance over the course of their journey, but sometimes love is worth the price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reverie

**Author's Note:**

> Another Hobbit meme prompt, except this one got entirely out of hand and really the only thing it shares with the original request is that it's a Fíli pov of Kíli/Bilbo.

_My brother is making a terrible mistake._

_I should have seen the signs from the beginning. I should have recognized the truth in time to put an end to this, but I didn't. I didn't realize what it meant before the damage had been done. But now as I look back, I can see that the symptoms were obvious and I do not know how I missed my brother's folly._

\---

My brother had always been odd, but the real trouble had not started until we were riding to meet our uncle and the others at the very beginning of our quest. Kíli had been excited ever since we had left the Blue Mountains for he'd always wanted to see the outside world. But when we reached the boundaries of the Shire where our burglar would be found, his mood took on a new edge of delight. I assumed it was just the nearness of our journey, for what dwarf would not feel fire in his blood at the thought of retaking Erebor?

How could I have realized then that it was not the thought of the future that enchanted Kíli but the fertile lands that we rode past. He took joy in the rolling hills and winding streams when he should have longed for rock and fire. He was delighted by the cheerful folk in the villages around us, their sturdy houses and lush fields and the lack of worries they had in their simple, easy lives.

_I do not know how he could admire it, the weakness of those people in a land without thought of gold or war. Dwarves should yearn for the warm embrace of stone, the shine of metal, the gleam of treasure, and the sound of battle in the air. But I digress._

As we traveled, Kíli's excitement only grew stronger and when we finally arrived at the burglar's door he was strung tight with anticipation. It was a cute house if you liked that sort of thing, with a bright green door set into the hillside, a lush garden around the side, and Bag End written carefully on a hand-carved wooden sign. I could see that we were not the first arrivals for two other ponies were already tied to the garden fence so we quickly dismounted and rang the bell.

Soon after the door opened, and there in the light stood a hobbit.

The hobbit was a short, chubby fellow who had a look of extreme consternation on his face. He tried to turn us away at first, claiming we had come to the wrong house, as though we could with the bright dwarvish thief mark shining clearly on the door. But Kíli soon put an end to that, and I handed our host my weapons as we entered, for it is ill manners to come so armed into a stranger's home.

_I should have killed him then and there, but how was I to know he was to be the bane of Durin's heirs?_

For if my brother was enthusiastic with his compliments it was no more than such a finely crafted home deserved; we dwarves can always recognize the skill of a true master no matter the material in which they work. And if Kíli's eyes often turned towards this Master Baggins as we prepared for dinner then I thought nothing of it, for he was an odd-looking creature and my brother had always possessed an overabundance of curiosity. Indeed, once our uncle arrived there was little time for anything but the discussion of our quest, and the news that none would aid us dampened all our spirits.

Only one note among the many did not ring true, and it came some time after the hobbit had refused to join us in our purpose. The rest of the company had already left, returning to the inn where Gandalf had booked us rooms to pass the night, and I was waiting by the ponies for Kíli to finish up inside. But he took longer than expected, indeed long enough that I walked back up the stairs to check on him and I thought that I heard voices behind the hobbit's door. Yet before I could do more than knock, Kíli finally joined me so we mounted our ponies and set off on our way.

I admit I wondered about the soft smile on my brother's face, but after we joined the others under the sign of the Green Dragon, I soon put it from my mind. There was food and drink and preparations to be had and I was far more preoccupied with the insult Lord Daín offered to our family for his dismissal of our quest was an attack upon our name.

_I had not realized then what a fragile thing my house's honor was._

And when I slept, I slept easily, lost in dreams of glory, for I did not grasp what ruin lay ahead.

\---

The next morning began in a blur of activity, thirteen dwarves running to and fro. But when the packing had been finished and the company prepared, the wizard refused to let us go. Gandalf was insistent that we wait for the halfling, saying that he had left Bilbo the contract just in case he changed his mind.

The wizard was so determined in his belief that Nori offered him fair odds, and never one to refuse a wager the rest of us joined in. Most of the company bet that the hobbit would not come, and I put my money on that outcome with the rest. The hobbit had already refused to aid us the night before and I could see no reason for him to alter this decision. Indeed, I thought it was probably for the best since he clearly was no burglar despite what Gandalf claimed.

However, my brother shared the wizard's optimism and placed his wager firmly on the hobbit's side. When questioned about this certainty, Kíli would not give his reasons, just shrugged and blamed a feeling while he smiled that odd smile yet again. At the time, I thought him simply being foolish and certainly it seemed that his money would be lost. For as the hours passed with no sign of the halfling, even Gandalf had to give in to Thorin's impatient glare, and our company finally set out on our way. And though my brother's mood seemed strangely dim for all his earlier excitement, I assumed his nerves had just caught up to him since we'd never been on a journey with so much at stake before.

No one was more surprised than I to hear a shout behind us and see the hobbit running frantically, contract trailing in the wind. He sounded so proud that he had signed it that I couldn't help but grin and at uncle's order Kíli and I lifted him upon a pony of his own. It was not until the halfling stopped us to whine about his missing handkerchief that I recalled my reservations, though Kíli continued beaming at his back- and well he should for my brother had won a fair bit of money off his bet.

_Would that we had left him where he stood._

\---

As the journey continued, I initially had no further cause to wonder about my brother's mood, for Kíli went back to his normal effervescent self, talking and laughing as though we were on a grand adventure. He even joined in my jokes happily enough, as he'd always had a prankster's soul and could hardly resist such a fantastic new target as our hobbit. If my taunts were a little sharper, and my tongue a little crueler that was only because I knew someone had to toughen up the halfling before he got all of us killed, and Kíli's soft heart made him unsuited for the task.

_I still don't know exactly when my brother stopped joining in, when instead of laughing he'd just look at me with disappointed eyes._

But soon enough when the hobbit would seek solace from our company's disparaging remarks it was Kíli who would follow and try to cheer him up. I noticed the change then, how could I not, but when questioned my brother only said that someone had to make Bilbo feel welcome and it might as well be him. At the time I thought it just the foolishness of youth, that this desire for a friend was only a product of my brother's years and his resistance to our upbringing.

While we'd both been raised in exile and I knew my duty, Kíli had always chafed against the restrictions of his rank. For all our mother's efforts my brother would not be tamed, stubbornly refusing to act as befit a prince of Durin's line. It was bad enough that he chose to become an archer and cut his beard to do it, but at least that was a useful battle skill and granting him that concession won us the larger war. For he'd kept his word; in exchange for his bow Kíli had stopped befriending commoners, stopped haunting the steps of every stranger to our town, and had become at least capable of looking proper when he must.

But now he was backsliding with this continual coddling of the hobbit, and finally I decided that I had to set my brother right. Uncle Thorin too had made his disapproval known, for he could see the signs as well as I, and we knew that now was not the time to let the breach of his promise slide. Not when we were finally on our way to reclaiming our homeland and Kíli's foolish actions would reflect upon us all.

The night our company stopped to camp at the remains of a farmer's cottage and uncle set my brother and I to guard the ponies, I knew that this was my chance to knock some sense into his head. And I tried, I really did.

I calmly explained that while it was good of Kíli to try and make the hobbit more loyal to the company by befriending him, he really should leave that task to one of the commoner members of our company. Ori maybe, he was a sweet fellow, and more on par with the hobbit's unfortunate status. It was Kíli's duty to stand firm with our uncle until the halfling proved himself worthy of our regard, and even then he should maintain a polite distance for it's not like Bilbo could ever really be as important as dwarf royalty.

But my brother simply refused to accept this, and when he dared to ask what made dwarves so much better anyway, I'm afraid I lost my temper. I may have said some things better left unvoiced about his beard and clothes and lifestyle choices and Kíli was never one to back down from a fight. Our argument devolved quickly into childish insults and the airing of old grudges, and we became so incensed that the shriek of our ponies and crashing in the trees caught us by surprise. At the sound our fighting stopped immediately, Kíli staring down at me with wide and startled eyes. I signaled to him and we moved toward the noise, finding a tree uprooted and the two ponies that had been tied there mysteriously vanished.

I was worried then and I could see my concern reflected in my brother's face for whatever had done this was large and probably quite dangerous. We were caught in a state of horror, contemplating what uncle would do to us for failing in such a basic task, when our burglar arrived. He was obviously only there to bring the both of us our dinner, but for once I thought him Valar-sent.

After explaining the situation and discovering that yes, it was indeed something quite dangerous, I came up with a plan. If anyone was going to steal our ponies back from the trio of mountain trolls we saw before us it should be the hobbit, because wasn't that what a burglar was for? He'd either prove his worth and show that he could help us with our purpose, or give us a reason to send him home- assuming he survived in the attempt.

I was surprised when Kíli agreed with me, for I thought he would have protested the danger to his friend. But as he pushed Bilbo towards the clearing, he whispered low that this was the hobbit's chance to show his skills and win my uncle's favor and promised that everything would somehow be all right.

_That was the first moment that I wondered if there was something deeper going on, for a Durin does not promise lightly, not when our word is all we have._

But Kíli shrugged off my questioning gaze and we slipped back into the trees to hide while we watched our burglar work. He was quick and quiet as he slipped up to our ponies and for a moment I thought that perhaps he would succeed. But the hobbit just fumbled with the ropes instead of cutting them, crawling back and forth as though a child in the dark. Only when my brother whispered that Bilbo should have said he lacked a blade did I recognize the problem, for I could not conceive of setting out unarmed. _Useless halfling,_ and for once Kíli seemed to agree for as the hobbit crawled towards the trolls I heard him mutter that this would not end well.

He turned to me then and ordered me to go get aid, to bring the others quickly and well-armed. At first I simply stared at him, aghast that he wished to risk our company to save the hobbit from his fate. Only once my brother reminded me that someone still had to rescue our ponies, voice low and filled with fury, did I accede and fly swiftly back to camp.

\---

Once alerted, the other dwarves moved like lightning and yet we were almost still too late, for we returned to find the hobbit captured and Kíli, foolish Kíli, confronting all three trolls on his own. I don't know what my brother thought to do against the monsters, but at the sight of him acting as if his life had so little value my heart filled with terror at the thought that I might lose him.

When the trolls threw Bilbo to Kíli, who dropped his own damned sword to catch him, my uncle and I could restrain ourselves no longer and charged into the fray, mad with battle lust and the need to protect Durin's youngest heir. Through the red haze that filled my vision I saw my brother whisper to the hobbit and push him to the side before picking up his sword and joining in the attack. The company fought against the monsters as though one mind, and we were holding our own and perhaps even gaining ground until the cursed halfling got himself captured once again.

There was real fear in Kíli's voice when the trolls threatened to tear Bilbo apart, and only uncle's quick hand stopped my brother from running to his aid. Kíli always did care too deeply about his friends, but even for all our disdain I knew none of our company could watch the hobbit be ripped to pieces before our very eyes. Not even my uncle who had claimed no responsibility for the burglar's fate, and so I soon found myself lying trussed up in sacks with half my fellows, the other half slow roasting on a turning spit.

And then the halfling had the nerve to throw this sacrifice back into our faces, advising our captors on how to cook us sweetest. All I could think when Bilbo told the trolls to skin us was that he planned to trade our fates for his, and I looked over at my brother to show him that this is what came of trusting other races with our lives. But when I saw the look upon Kíli's face all I could think was, _By Mahal's fury, not again!_

My brother's eyes contained an agony of betrayal and I realized that my earlier suspicions had been correct; there was far more going on here than just a simple friendship. But this realization did not surprise me greatly for Kíli had made a habit of inappropriate infatuations in his younger years, trailing after dwarrows and men alike. So I assumed that his interest in the hobbit, while inconvenient, would soon pass like all the others and at worst I'd have to accept yet another ridiculous hobby; my brother could add crochet to the range of skills he'd emulated over the years, from the bow to forging to fine embroidery. And I decided I could worry about Kíli's foolish admiration after I repaid his current idol for the insult and the threat against our lives.

There was little I could do, tied up as I was, but I squirmed toward the halfling anyway, determined to take some vengeance from his hide. I was nearly in biting range when everyone started yelling about parasites, and in the nick of time our wizard made his entrance, a deafening crack heralding the arrival of the sun. With the trolls turned to stone, it was short work for the wizard to free our company and soon we were helping each other to our feet.

As I watched Kíli fuss over the hobbit, all friendship and smiles once again, I thought to myself, _Oh, yeah. This could be infatuation for sure_ and I resolved to do what I could to make this one pass quickly. Because while Bilbo had saved our lives, it was his fault to begin with, and the last thing my brother needed was another improper role model if I was to finally train him to act as befitted a prince of Erebor. So I would watch for the signs and separate them where I could, while I waited for this thing to run its course.

_How was I to know that this time would be different? How was I to fathom that my brother'd fall so far?_

\---

Of course shortly after I came to this conclusion there was no time for thinking anything at all. First we were accosted by Gandalf's mad wizard friend and after we found ourselves with an orc pack on our trail. We ran then for our dearly rescued ponies had run off, the company fleeing away from our pursuers while the brown wizard tried to draw them away. And if my brother hadn't choked perhaps we would have made it all the way.

 _What use is a bow that cannot even kill our enemies?_   I wondered in annoyance when Kíli failed to bring down the orc scout and his warg. Oh sure, he stopped the orc's horn from blowing but that hardly stopped the screams and before long our company was surrounded by death on every side.

I was prepared to fight, blades drawn and ready when Gandalf called out for us to hide and we ran for the crevice where he stood. Kíli and our uncle were the last two to arrive and I did not draw full breath until I saw them sliding safely down the stone, soon followed by the sounds of horses and battle from above. When an orc tumbled down into our cave, slain by an arrow in its neck, we realized that we'd been saved by elves and the knowledge shamed me just as I saw it in uncle Thorin's eyes. But needs must and so we followed down the path the wizard led.

Though when we came out from the between the rocks to see the hidden valley of Rivendell, fury burned within me that Gandalf had dared to lead us to the house of our betrayers and it was all I could do to keep my swords within their sheaths. Indeed, the whole company was on edge as we walked down into the unnaturally sculpted gardens of the elves, with only the hobbit staring around us all in wonder.

We were greeted at the entrance by an elf, tall and pasty as all his kind, and he did not even do us the courtesy of speaking in Westron, instead addressing Gandalf in his fluting elvish tongue. Whatever the news he passed the wizard was not pleased, but his response was cut short by a piercing horn behind us as a cohort of elvish lancers thundered down the path. Our company closed ranks quickly against this new threat, pulling the halfling back behind drawn steel, and all was tense for many moments while uncle and the elf lord faced off.

But thankfully Lord Elrond decided not to take offense at Thorin's poorly veiled contempt, for though I shared my uncle's desire to cut the elves' smug faces down to size I could recognize that the odds were not in our favor. As could the rest of our company and Kíli shot me a relieved smile when the elf invited us to accept his hospitality, wrapping his arm around the halfling's shoulders and steering him inside. And thus, the company of Thorin Oakenshield came to stay in Rivendell.

\---

Our time in the elf lord's house was peaceful despite the underlying tension, and so I had thought to spare for the target of my brother's unsuitable affections. I began by watching them to double-check that my theory was correct for I hoped greatly that the fight for our survival could have clouded my perception. But now that I was looking for them, the signs were not hard to find.

To be fair, my brother was being subtle, and none of others suspected that his interest in the hobbit was more than simple friendship, but I knew Kíli well enough to recognize what lay beneath his smile. It was there in the touches that lasted just a bit too long, the shy glances whenever no one else was looking. How my brother sat just a little too close, leaned in just a little too far. Perhaps most telling was Kíli's extreme jealousy, for Bilbo found the elves fascinating and his every admiring comment was met by my brother's deepening scowl. Such jealousy was the surest sign of a new infatuation, for Kíli was possessive of his interests in sharp contrast to his normal easy-going state.

Which meant to my annoyance, that I was right.

The plan was simple then, to separate them as much as possible so that Kíli's crush would have no chance to grow. This was easy enough in Rivendell for I could always find something to occupy my brother and the halfling was often off with our uncle in his meetings with the elves. Even once we left, I just made sure to always walk between them, to casually interrupt any serious conversations. And though Kíli sent me aggravated glances, he had no reason to wonder at my actions, for I had long cultivated an obliviousness to his infatuations. If that obliviousness had often led to his suitors giving up and his unsuitable friends being chased away, that was simply a fortunate coincidence, and I was sure this time it would be the same.

_I think by then it was already far too late to use such simple tactics, but at that point in our journey I could not have known._

\---

My misconception held through our long trek deep into the Misty Mountains, the slow climb up crag and cliff and stone. In fact I thought that my plan was working, for although Kíli remained friendly with the hobbit, he soon began to accept my interference without any complaint other than an exasperated sigh. That seemed a sign that his interest might be waning and if he'd sometimes disappear from my sight I hardly had the energy to worry.

Indeed when our company ran into Stone Giants, battling fiercely in the cliffs, it was my name that Kíli shouted as the path we stood on slipped away. My name not the hobbit's and I felt rather smug about it, amidst all the jumping for our lives.

By the time our company was all together again and sheltered for the night we were all exhausted and accepted gratefully when Kíli offered to take first watch. I fell asleep quickly and I was only woken from my slumber by my uncle's shout before the floor opened up beneath us. It was goblins, hordes of them, who had carved out the inside of the mountain in some grotesque imitation of our fine-cut dwarven halls. They were on our company before we could do more than blink, chivvying us along across their rickety bridges and filth-covered walkways until finally these foul creatures brought us to their king.

That was a grotesque behemoth of a goblin, fat and mutated, who dared to claim that Azog the Defiler was still alive and had lain a price upon my uncle's head. He aimed to torture us first before handing Thorin over to be slain and for all our struggles we could not escape.

Our only hope was the wizard, and delaying til he found us, but what were the odds that Gandalf even would for he had hardly shown any great power on our quest so far. Once the goblins found Thorin's sword our chances grew even slimmer for the sight of Orcist drove them into a frenzy and although we fought valiantly we were soon overwhelmed, watching in horror as they raised a blade above my uncle's neck.

Which was, of course, when the wizard decided to arrive. It seemed he loved to make grand entrances for he again appeared again at the very last moment, flattening our enemies and freeing us to fight. Then we were running, battling for our lives and slaying every creature that got into our way.

At first I thought we wouldn't make it for the mountain was a warren, built without sensible thought or care, but after Gandalf killed the Goblin King we felt the pull of daylight and soon found ourselves breathing open air. It seemed that we'd spent almost a day deep within the mountains, for night had nearly fallen yet again.

The wizard asked then, what had become of our hobbit, and we were surprised to find that he was missing. When Nori mentioned that he'd seen Bilbo slip away most of us accepted my uncle's explanation, for why wouldn't the halfling have left us to our fate? After all, it's what I would have done to him. Kíli though was strangely frantic at the thought, searching all around him as though to find the hobbit hidden beneath a stone. When the halfling returned, stepped out from behind a tree as though appearing from thin air, my brother's smile was blinding and the overwhelming relief in his voice sent off alarm bells in my mind.

I had been acting on the assumption that this was simple infatuation, and could be dealt with like I had dealt with all the others in the past. But what if I was wrong? What if my brother had done the unthinkable and actually imagined himself in love with this creature? This **male** creature. What if he had dared to break our race's last unforgivable taboo? There was no proof yet that that was the case, but the thought alone filled me with dread for that path could lead only to dishonor and disgrace.

All I could do was stare aghast as my uncle questioned the hobbit's motives, and hope that the others mistook my horror for anger or suspicion. Indeed, those emotions soon overcame the fear, for Bilbo had the audacity to talk to us of homelands, as though he knew the hell our people suffered every day. _What does he know of loss and deprivation? What does he know of fighting not to lose the ones you love?_

Thorin's face mirrored my own distrust but before he could question the hobbit further we were set upon by wargs and soon found ourselves once again running for our lives. We barely stayed ahead of the pack while we fled east down the mountains and I felt one nip at my heels as I lunged for the branches of a tree. There we were, trapped high above the ground on the edge of a vast cliff, monsters circling beneath our feet, and that's when I saw him: Azog the Defiler, the one who killed our king.

_Azog, that fell creature. One day I'll make him suffer, make him pay for the Durin's blood he's spilled._

But it was not to be that day, for I was helpless to do more than stare. All I could do was hold on by my fingertips, feet dangling over empty air, as uncle charged into battle against our ancient foe. All I could do was watch in horror as Azog beat him down and I knew then that I was about to watch my uncle die.

Until the hobbit, that silly, useless hobbit jumped in to do what all us dwarves could not. Though obviously terrified, Bilbo stood firm between Thorin and the bringer of his death and Kíli's face glowed with exultation when he pulled me up and we flung ourselves into the fray. The thrill of battle sang within my blood as our swords cleaved through orc flesh, and I fought my way towards our uncle and the great pale monster just beyond. Perhaps we would have made it and become legend or perhaps we would have died, great songs sung of the death of the last of Durin's line in the fight for glory and our vengeance.

But before the tide could turn towards either outcome, great winged shadows descended on us from the sky. At first I was filled with terror at the sight of these great eagles, but they were on our side and attacked the orcs with fury. These great birds came to save us, snatching us from the jaws of death, and I was grateful for Thorin's sake though it burned my splintered pride.

\---

_Kíli rests behind me now, passed out from exhaustion, and I can see uncle dangling from the largest eagle's claws. Though I do not know if he still lives, we are safe now and perhaps my heart can finally ease._

But I have used this time of respite to reflect upon my brother's actions over the course of the journey that has brought us here and I am not comforted by my conclusions. No, I am convinced that my worst fears have been realized and Kíli's heart has gone impossibly astray.

There is still hope though. Even if he believes himself in love, Kíli could still be mistaken for he is young and foolish and knows little of the workings of a heart. I have also seen no proof that the hobbit returns my brother's misguided interest so while his mind may be tainted his body should still be pure. If I can end this perversion before that final line is crossed, perhaps Durin's youngest may yet be redeemed.

But no one else must know of this before I am able to contain the situation. Thorin does not need the worry and I cannot risk the damage to Kíli''s reputation, not with Erebor on the line. Better my brother should see his folly and learn to treat the hobbit with no more than the respect that he has earned before anyone discovers how far he dared to fall.

So I am resolved. I will find a way to save Kíli from himself even if I have to break his heart to do it, and he will thank me in the long run when his duty is fulfilled. I must protect the honor of our house even from within and I must stop my brother before his mistake can no longer be undone.

 


	2. Ruin

  
I am brought from my musings as the eagles that carry our company begin to descend, circling down around a tall stone spire, and I nudge Kíli to wakefulness behind me. When we land our first thought is for our uncle and we rush toward where the eagle left him sprawled upon the rock. As we near Thorin's body I can see that he is far too still, far too stiff, and at the sight my throat closes tight with grief. _I am much too young to be king,_ I think in desperation and I grab my brother's arms tightly for support.

But then Gandalf kneels down next to our uncle muttering some arcane wizardry, and when Thorin stirs I take back every disparaging remark I ever made. My knees threaten to buckle with relief as his eyes open and Kíli and I rush forward to help our uncle struggle to his feet. I am so happy that I cannot stop beaming and when Thorin starts tearing into the hobbit nothing can dampen my glorious mood, not even my brother's enraged face. Nothing except uncle himself who ends his furious rant with the admission that he was wrong and then hugs the halfling close. The rest of our company cheers but I have to fight to keep the smile on my face.

 _Where is your dignity Thorin, to shower such favor on one not of our race?_   While I am grateful for my uncle's life and it is proper of the House of Durin to acknowledge its debts, this lack of restraint will give the hobbit a false idea of his worth.

_And now that Bilbo has proven himself in the eyes of our company, Kíli's foolish hope will burn stronger and my task will be far more difficult. Thorin will not allow any harm to come to Bilbo while he breathes, and indeed neither may I, not with the life debt that our family owes. As this will make any punishment for Kíli's transgression his alone to bear, I must find a peaceful way to make my brother see reason, since I cannot simply cut the halfling down and I cannot risk the others finding out. But debt or not, what is needed must be done._

After my uncle has finished complimenting the halfling so effusively, our company finds our eyes drawn to a solitary mountain peak that is visible far in the distance. The warmth in Thorin's voice when he names it Erebor makes my heart ache with longing and I stare at our homeland, taking my first glimpse of the land I will someday rule.

But when I turn back, Kíli is not looking at the mountain, no, he is smiling at Bilbo and I am sharply reminded that even if we succeed in our quest, I may still lose everything if I do not end my brother's folly.

So my mind is heavy as our company begins to make its way slowly down the spire, and even the news that the wizard knows someone living nearby who may grant us sanctuary cannot lighten my black thoughts. Indeed, when Gandalf adds that this friend lives over a day's travel away it seems only fitting and I resign myself to a cold and uncomfortable night. Next to me Kíli grumbles, asking irritably why the eagles couldn't have dropped us a little closer to our goal, and though I agree with him I am also thankful to have the extra time. I know that I may need several attempts to change my brother's mind, and once we have retaken Erebor it will be far too late.

\---

Our company only manages to travel a short distance from the rock before making camp that night, for we all bear wounds that must be tended and uncle most of all. As we carry out our standard duties, I am relieved to find that despite his straying heart, Kíli and I can still work in sync, needing no words to know where the other stands. Yet when we finish, instead of remaining by my side as usual, my brother drops down next to Bilbo and engages him in a whispered conversation. The sight of them huddled together fills me with annoyance and in my irritation I decide to just confront Kíli directly since I obviously cannot afford to let this slide much longer.

"Kíli, come gather wood," I call to him, nodding my head towards a nearby grove of trees. He tilts his head in confusion as the fire is already well lit, but follows me willingly enough when I lead him away from the camp. Once we have reached a distance that should be out of earshot, I turn to face him and he stops short at the gravity of my expression.

"Is something wrong?" Kíli asks, worry filling his eyes and I can see him trying to think of what could have happened now.

Yet he comes to no conclusions and he does not see his error, so it seems that I must tell him. "Yes, brother, something is wrong. Kíli, you have to stop this."

"Stop what?"

"This **thing** with the halfling. You are not subtle as you think you are and you must end it before the others notice."

His eyes widen at the vehemence in my voice and I can see him contemplating denial before choosing to take offense instead. "It's not a thing! And why should I stop? I know no one thought much of him at first but he's more than proved himself by now to all the ones who matter. Besides, Bilbo doesn't mind and there's no harm in anything we've done."

"Anything you've done?" Fear grips me at these words, and I grab his arm tightly. "You have not bedded the hobbit?"

"His name is **Bilbo!** " Kíli answers, pulling back against my hand. "And what is your problem? Why would it matter if I did?"

"He is not acceptable." I growl at him, increasing the pressure of my grip. "And you have not answered the question."

"If you must know we haven't done anything yet. But I still don't understand what business it is of yours." Kíli retorts, finally yanking his arm fee. "I have lain with males before, as have half the members of our company, and it is common enough among the Shire folk- I made sure of that."

"You were younger then, some experimentation among youths is to be expected, but things are different now. A male dwarf would be bad enough, though perhaps acceptable for a commoner, but you are one of Durin's line and soon we will have regained our throne. You must be prepared to marry well and sire heirs for the sake of our people, not tie your heart to a fruitless union. For I know you brother and I know this is not some casual liaison that you will cast easily aside; you believe you are courting the hobbit as your one and only and that cannot be borne."

I am close to yelling now as I try to make Kíli see sense, to understand why what he wants simply must not be. Yet even in my zealotry I remember to restrain myself as the others are still far too near to risk them overhearing if I shout.

"And he is not even a dwarf. Think of the disgrace to our uncle once people find out, think of the disgrace to you. How can you expect to command the respect of our people with a hobbit at your side, brave though he may be? No they will scorn him and scorn you for falling so far outside our race. And how can you expect him to happy, separated from his people and living in the halls of Erebor?"

Kíli is silent for a long moment and I dare to hope that the logic of my words has cut through his delusion; surely he understands now that I only want what's right?

But then his face twists and he says harshly. "Do not speak to me of Erebor! You have asked me to think of Bilbo and our family and I have, but now I must ask you to think of me. What use have I for a mountain or its treasure? Why would I, who was born upon the open road and raised under wood and sky, yearn for the cold embrace of stone above my head. I know you dream of the gold and glory of our grandfather, and when the time comes you will serve our people well, but that is not my dream. That has **never** been my dream.

I dream of the chance to earn an honest living and of a home to return to when the long days are done. I dream of a simple life filled with love and laughter, and I will take it where I have found it no matter who approves. I am on this quest only for love of you and Thorin, not for any other reason, and I swear that I will see my duty through. But I will not sacrifice my heart to do it, not for all the gold in Erebor."

I stare at my brother in shock and open my mouth to protest, but Kíli cuts me off before I can speak.

"No, brother. I will always love you but I cannot grant you this. Do not worry though, I will protect our family's honor for your sake. Even if Bilbo accepts my troth none shall know before our quest is finished, and afterward I do not think that it will matter anymore."

He smiles sadly at me before turning and heading back towards camp and I am left speechless in the dark. As I watch him walk away I am struck by the horrifying idea that the brother I remember was not real. That the young dwarf who followed in my footsteps and hung on my every word was never more than a mirage and now the illusion has broken at last leaving me with only this terrifying stranger in his place.

But no, there was a time I knew my brother, there was a time I knew him well and that dwarf must still be in him somewhere. Kíli has just gone astray, has lost sight of who he is meant to be. _How long has it been? How long has it been since I lost him and didn't even notice?_ There is no answer to my question and I am filled with only a desperate hope that I can somehow get him back.

Yet I remain resolved, for this discovery only reveals the necessity of my purpose and now that a direct approach has failed me I will simply try another path. There must be a way to change his mind and I am sure that if I can just cleave him from the hobbit, everything will go back to the way it was before.

\---

Kíli keeps his word. What overt signs existed to show his interest in the hobbit disappear by the next morning, and I know that even uncle will not realize that my brother wishes more than friendship. If only that were the case for me as well. But even though Kíli's mind is closed to me I still recognize his tells and I can see that he has not given up. It is there in his smiles, that extra hint of tenderness when he helps Bilbo with his gear. It is in the way he looks first to the hobbit for approval- _He used to look to me_ \- and curls up next to him at night. Most of all it is in the silences, that comfortable stillness in which my brother and the halfling now communicate without a word.

Watching this infuriates me since Kíli's every action is a refusal of all he should hold dear and I am terrified that if Kíli becomes closer to Bilbo he will continue to draw away from me. Yet every time I try to prove that the hobbit is not worthy of him so that my brother will come back to my side, Kíli will not listen and the split between us only widens.

Whereas before we could barely stand to be parted, by the time our company reaches the house of Gandalf's friend, my brother hardly speaks to me at all. When he must be he is civil but nothing more and I start to truly hate the halfling for causing such a rift to form. _If he had never come along and tempted Kíli to perversion, none of this would be happening. I would still have my baby brother and the honor of our family would not stand in such jeopardy. There must be some way to break the two apart without my forsaking my oath or uncle's debt._

I am brought from my dark musings when Gandalf introduces us to our host and I have never seen a man who is quite so large and feral. He is taller than even the wizard and so towers over me and the others of our company. However, despite his disreputable appearance, Beorn gladly offers us his hospitality and lays out a great feast within the hall for our group to share. Thus for a short while I am able to forget my worries in the joy of feast and song.

But even though I may wish it, this respite cannot last and as our company settles down for the night my uncle pulls me aside.

"What foul blood stands between you and your brother, nephew? Everyone has noticed how he will not look your way."

"It is nothing uncle. Just a disagreement." _Even if I told him, he would not believe me without proof I cannot give. Not now that Kíli has become even more subtle in his courting and the halfling has finally proved to have some worth. Not with the debt that he now owes._ "I will deal with it."

"See that you do." He lays a firm hand on my shoulder and looks at me sternly. "I cannot afford to have such a split within my company, not when the dangers of the Mirkwood lie ahead. We will spend several days here recovering our strength while the wizard observes the path before us and I expect you to have it resolved before we leave. For the sake of our quest and also for you; I do not like to see you so unhappy."

I thank him for his consideration and vow to do as he asks, vow to find a way to convince Kíli that he is mistaken and it is not truly love that binds my brother's heart.

\---

However, the long days that follow are some of the most frustrating of my life for Kíli simply refuses to cooperate. Every morning our company rises from our beds and no matter how I try to corner him, my brother manages to eat breakfast on the far side of the table, usually with Bilbo near at hand. Then Thorin assigns everyone tasks to complete during the day, and Kíli and I are often set together so I believe our uncle is trying to aid me in my cause. But when we work on one of uncle's projects, Kíli sits in silence and he will not answer when I try to make him speak.

I tell my brother again all the reasons that he should give up on Bilbo - our laws, the age difference, his duty- but he will not listen to my words, even though I hide my disgust behind a wall of logic and common sense. And when our job is finished, my brother somehow evades me again and again, disappears into Beorn's Hall with the hobbit in tow and does not reappear until we settle for the night.

Frustration builds within me with each day that passes and by the third I have taken to haunting the halls in the afternoons, searching for Kíli with the faint hope that maybe this time I will find him and magically set things right.

And it is well that I do for I soon discover that I have little time to spare.

On one fine afternoon during our fourth day at the house, I am once again wandering the halls in the hope of running into Kíli when I think that I hear voices. They seem to be coming from a window cracked open to my right and so I climb up to the high windowsill to investigate the sound.

When I look through the glass, I see my brother and the hobbit sitting there below me. They are curled up in a hidden corner of Beorn's endless gardens, blocked from normal sight by thick bushes all around, but from my vantage point I can see and hear them clearly and though horrified I cannot look away.

Bilbo is leaning back against the wall of the house, gazing fondly down at Kíli who is sprawled across his lap and fear grows within me at the thought that my brother's interest is returned. Though Kíli's face is turned away from me, looking to the east, his voice holds only tenderness as he asks the hobbit quietly, "Will you tell me more about the Shire?"

"Again?" Bilbo laughs gently as he brushes hair away from my brother's face. "Haven't you heard enough yet?"

Kíli just shrugs, curling deeper into the hobbit's lap. "I like listening to you, it's soothing. And it seems only fair, since I've told you everything important about me already."

"Somehow I doubt that greatly. If it were true you couldn't keep surprising me so well." Bilbo responds. "But if you want a story, let me think. You've already heard all about Bag End and the Party Tree and my relatives, both dear and not."

"Heh, yeah. I would love to see uncle Thorin meet those cousins of yours, the Sackville-Bagginses, maybe he'd finally have to change his expression."

Bilbo stifles a chuckle and then continues, stroking his hand through Kíli's hair. "I guess I'll have to talk about Hobbiton today. I don't know how much of the Shire you managed to see on your journey but you would have entered the village on your way to my door since that's where dear old Bag End is located. Hobbiton is one of the oldest villages in the Shire, and right near the center, though it is technically in Westfarthing. We like to think that makes us the most important one even if Michel Delving has a mayor. But it's a beautiful place as I'm sure you saw, all rolling green hills and swift-running streams.

The market in Hobbiton is the largest in the Shire and hobbits from all the neighboring towns such as Bywater and Needlehole come there to do their shopping every day. You can buy anything you could possibly need: fruits and vegetables, meat and eggs, pipeweed, clothing, flowers and jewelry. And on the major market holidays everyone comes from as far as Hardbottle in the North, Gamwich in the South, and across the Brandywine to the East, because that's when people sell bigger items like cows and furniture.

In the spring and summer wandering pedlars who sell rarer odds and ends often appear, that's how I picked up most of my books and maps, and the news of them always travels far and wide before they arrive. Getting metalwork has been harder since the old smith passed on, but Old Boffin's quite handy with a knife sharpener and we can always send up to Bree for pots..."

Bilbo's voice is soft and gentle in reminiscence as he paints a vivid picture of his old idyllic life for Kíli and soon even I am caught up in his spell. I listen intently as he speaks about the warmth and comforts of his home, but when he trails off after a long while, longing in his voice, I shake myself awake. _That life is not for you, nor Kíli neither. Our home is in the mountain._ I remind myself sternly. _That is where we belong no matter what temptation this hobbit offers._

But even as I think this, my brother whispers, "It sounds lovely. As fine a home as you could want," and I am forcibly reminded of his discussion of his dreams when Bilbo replies, "It is. I think you'd love it there."

At that Kíli turns back to look up at the hobbit and smiles, murmuring something inaudible. Although I cannot hear the words, I am struck by despair at the look on my brother's face, for he is looking at the halfling as though he were mithril, an invaluable treasure that could never be replaced. It is the way our mother looks at father, the way uncle speaks of Erebor, and I know that Kíli will never change his mind.

_This is so much worse than I thought. He really is in love with the hobbit and Bilbo seems to feel the same. How could he give his heart away so foolishly, doesn't he realize what the future brings? Doesn't he realize what this will cost?_

But even as my mind cries out against the consequences of my brother's choice, I know that it is futile. Kíli is too far gone to be swayed by common sense or reason and he has already dismissed every argument I have. Yet even if he has accepted the results of his actions, I cannot let him walk down this path to misery and ruin, not when there is still a chance that I can save him from his fate. _I will just have to find some other way. There is always another way._

My attention is brought from my horrified imaginings by movement from below as the hobbit hugs my brother close with a delighted smile on his face.

"Of course, love. Of course you can." As he draws back though, Bilbo's voice grows doubtful and he asks Kíli with concern, "But are you sure? I mean you're a prince and I don't want you to get in trouble with Thorin or anyone."

My brother just smiles again and leans up to kiss Bilbo softly. "I may be one of uncle's heirs but I'm the spare and everyone recognizes that. Mahal knows my family has always despaired of my ever acting like a proper representative of Durin's line. So while my relatives won't approve at first they should get over it eventually, and I don't care about what anyone else thinks. Being with you is worth it."

I wince to hear the conviction in his voice when he names himself unimportant for I know my angry taunts and hidden fears have helped to put it there. _Once I fix this, I will do better,_ I swear as he continues.

"So I am sure, I promise. I want you," and now his voice turns wicked. "I want you and I would have you already if I could. Kiss you senseless as I undress you oh so slowly, button by button revealing your soft skin. I'd worship you with hands and mouth until you're begging me to take you and I would, eventually. Once I've worked you open and you're writhing on my fingers, so overcome with pleasure that all you can do is gasp my name. I'd kiss you then, lick my way into your mouth and swallow your cries as I finally push my way inside you. And you'd accept me greedily for you'd want it, you'd need me to fill you to the brink."

As Bilbo makes a hungry noise and leans down to kiss Kíli deeply, I jerk back from the window because that is decidedly enough of that. Despite his filthy words I know my brother will not risk it yet, but it is obviously only a matter of time. For a long moment I am frozen with hopelessness, _what can I do if Kíli will not listen to the truth_ , but as I think back over the conversation I finally realize that **Kíli** does not have to, he doesn't have to change his mind at all.

\---

It is some time before I can put my plan into action because when my brother and the halfling are not alone together they are surrounded by the other members of our company. However, on the sixth day Gandalf finally declares us ready to leave and Thorin eagerly agrees as my uncle has been chafing at the delay while Durin's day draws ever closer. Thus, that night there is a flurry of preparation for our departure and in the chaos I am able to corner the hobbit alone.

I steer him into an empty room and close the door behind us as Bilbo looks up at me, clearly perplexed by my actions. Rage wells up in me again as I look upon his soft features, the face that leads my brother to destruction, but I fight down my scowl for this will not work if the halfling understands how much I hate him. And so I start to gently stalk my prey.

"I must speak to you, Bilbo, though first I must offer you my gratitude. I haven't had the chance to thank you for saving my uncle's life."

"Uh, you're welcome? I just did what I could." He answers in confusion. _I need to ease into this, draw him gently to my side._

"And we are overjoyed that you did. But while we are on the subject of my family, I must speak to you about my brother."

"What about your brother?" Bilbo is wary now, he must remember what Kíli told him about his family's disapproval.

But I keep my voice low and soothing; I still need him to trust me. "He is courting you. I know him and I have seen the signs."

"And what of it? Kíli told me others might not approve, but I do not see why if it makes us happy."

"Then he has not told you enough. Dwarves do not marry outside our race, it is **forbidden**." _Time to start reeling him in. Throw truth in with the lies until he cannot tell which way to turn._

"What, aren't we good enough for you?" And there's the defensiveness I was expecting, for every creature is right in his own mind.

 _Of course you aren't._ "Of course you are. It's not about whether you are worthy, it's about the cost to us, the cost to him."

"What cost? Stop speaking in riddles and tell me what you mean." _Worried now, hobbit? You should be._

"When dwarves love, we love completely, body, heart, and soul and even if our partner dies we will never take another. And my brother is young, the youngest of our company as he has barely come of age. If all goes well he could live for another two hundred years."

"Two hundred?" He looks up at me in shock. It seems I was right and Kíli did not think to mention that. So I continue, playing on his love and on his fear.

"Yes, and I do not think that you can say the same. How many years do you have left, Bilbo? Forty? Fifty? If you continue on this path your death will ruin Kíli and he will grieve over you until the day his broken spirit finally gives out. That is why it was forbidden, after we lost too many of our people to the pain of sundered hearts."

The hobbit's voice is a whisper now, soft and tortured. "He never mentioned...What can I do?" _And that's the mithril question isn't it? Oh, I have you now. Time to move in for the kill._

"It's not too late to save him. If you break it off with my brother before Kíli has the chance to fall completely, he will be hurt but his heart will heal and be able to move on."

"I couldn't, I can't hurt him like that." Bilbo shakes his head in denial but I am relentless now that I have my goal in sight.

"You must. Better to cause Kíli some pain now than condemn him to centuries of agony once he loses you to time and my brother mislead you about the strictness of our laws, though perhaps he simply does not know. The truth is that he is breaking our people's worst taboo and if your relationship comes to light our greatest punishment will fall upon his head. Thorin will have no choice but to strip Kíli of his name and brand him _uznâl_ for his disgrace and he will have no place among Aulë's children for the remainder of his life. My brother will be outcast forever and when he finally loses you he will have no one else to turn to, no one there to ease his pain."

When the hobbit recoils from me, eyes wide and stricken, I can see that he has believed my every word. Well he should, for a dwarf lord's word is his honor and his bond and it is only a desperate necessity such as this that could make me speak a lie. But if my lies can save my brother from the destruction he pursues, then I bless my silver tongue.

"I must think on this," Bilbo stammers, but I know that I have him. He will do exactly as I ask, never realizing that Kíli's love is already his to hold.

"Don't wait too long, everyday my brother's infatuation grows a little stronger," I add just to twist the knife a little deeper. Then I release him and watch him scuttle away, satisfied with a job well done. This will pain my brother greatly and in truth his heart may never entirely recover, but he will have his family around him to support him through his grief. And it is worth it, for Kíli will be free to do his duty to our line and live in honor for the remainder of his days.

\---

Our company sets out for Mirkwood the next morning, riding upon borrowed ponies. Beorn has loaned them to us until we reach the forest's western edge, which stands several days away even at this pace. As we travel, I watch Bilbo and my brother like a hawk, waiting expectantly for the fruition of my plans. I can tell that the hobbit has not forgotten about my words and instead dwells seriously upon them since his eyes are full of grief whenever Kíli looks away. Yet he will not act.

Indeed, Bilbo delays for so long that I begin to worry that all my effort was for naught and I am running out of other things to try. However, just as I am beginning to despair, the hobbit makes his move and at last I will see my aim fulfilled.

We are camped at Mirkwood's border when he finally acts, the halfling drawing Kíli off into the dark with the flimsiest of excuses and verily they make my brother laugh. It is some time before I can follow them without being noticed by the others, but when I eventually manage it they are not hard to find, barely out of eyesight of the camp.

I see them through the brush before I hear them, and the desperate look on Kíli's face tells me that the hobbit has made good. My brother is pressing Bilbo back against a tree, and though their clothes are disheveled they are thankfully still on, and my esteem for the halfling rises slightly. _I suppose even a hobbit couldn't fuck and run._

"-- not fair to you." Bilbo is saying as I move within hearing range.

"Bilbo, I don't care. This is my choice to make and I would rather spend fifty years in joy with you than two hundred with a severed heart. Please, you don't have to do this." Kíli begs frantically, trying to make the hobbit look at him, trying to make him see.

But Bilbo will not meet my brother's eyes as he responds, and now he is pleading desperately as well. "Can't you see it's better this way? You'll have your family and your people and someday you'll find love again and you'll grow old together. You will."

Kíli shakes his head in refusal and his voice is choked by misery. "No, no I **won't**! I know I hadn't told you yet but I love you and I know you feel the same...Bilbo, **please**."

"It's for the best," the hobbit whispers, then ducks under my brother's arm and flees. I pull back quickly as he rushes by me but he is blinded in his sorrow and I can see the tears streaming down his cheeks.

Kíli stares after him for a long moment and I will never forget the devastated look upon my brother's face. It is as though someone has ripped the beating heart from his chest and eaten it, as though all light has vanished from his world, and I have to remind myself that this is what I wanted when my baby brother crumples to his knees. Kíli is gasping now, great shuddering breaths that shake his slender form as he cries out his denial in a litany of woe.

Yet though my heart aches for his sorrow and I wish that I could comfort him, I cannot imagine that he would want to see me now. So instead I turn away and walk back into the darkness, leaving my brother to his grief.

 


	3. Rancor

When I return to the fire the hobbit is already there, the only sign of what just occurred his red and haunted eyes.  I walk over to him where he sits apart from the rest of the company and lay my hand gently on his shoulder.  
  
"Thank you," I whisper when he looks up, but Bilbo only shakes his head.  
  
"Don't thank me, not for that.  Just...will you make sure that he's happy?"  
  
"I will," I promise, and I mean this oath.  Now that Bilbo is out of the picture, Kíli must return to me and everything can return to the way it was.  I will help my brother find joy through the proper dwarven channels and put him back on the most honorable road.  Yet when he finally walks into camp an hour later, Kíli's eyes are dead and empty and he will not speak, just curls up alone by the fire.  
  
That's when I realize that fulfilling my promise may take much longer than I thought.  
  
\---  
  
The next morning our company wakes early and prepares to cross the haunted wood, a trip that will take us several weeks even if all goes well.  As we release Beorn's ponies to return to their master, I try to catch my brother's attention in order to begin our reconciliation, but he will not look at me; in fact, Kíli does not look at anyone, just gazes after Bilbo with sorrow in his eyes and when we are done with our task he finds himself an empty corner of the camp and hunches down to pack up with a sigh.  
  
I stare after my brother in wonder and exasperation, _Surely he has grieved enough already and there is no need for all this drama? How long can it possibly take for him to get over a hobbit?_   Yet despite Kíli's sulking I am still pleased with the changes I have wrought, at least until I turn away and see Thorin frowning at me, disapproval on his face.  
  
As I meet his gaze I wince, for there is a question in his eyes and I know that he is wondering why I have failed to repair my relationship with Kíli as I promised, why things have only gotten worse.  _If only he knew what I was dealing with, he would understand,_ I think in annoyance, but of course that cannot be.  
  
Thankfully, Gandalf distracts uncle from his questions when the wizard announces that he must now leave us to our fate.  At this news, Thorin is enraged, demanding to know how Gandalf could abandon us just as we enter the domain of our people's greatest betrayer?  All of our company cries foul and rightly, for didn't the wizard promise to help us reach our goal, didn't he swear to take us to the mountain?  
  
I too am filled with outrage and no small amount of fear at this ill news because Gandalf has already saved our lives many times on this journey and we could easily find ourselves in such a bind again.  
  
However, despite the strength of our arguments and the validity of our protests, the wizard will not be swayed.  Instead he tells us that if we keep to the road we should be safe enough and find ourselves across the forest in less than two weeks' time.  This would allow us to reach the Lonely Mountain and find the secret door long before the last light of Durin's Day reveals its hidden lock.  
  
Yet still it worries me and I can see my own doubt reflected in my uncle's eyes, for what if the wizard does not return and Smaug still lairs within our homeland?  Are we supposed to fight the dragon without his power? One hobbit and thirteen dwarves against the beast that wiped out the great cities of Dale and Erebor in less than a day.  Yet despite these fully justified fears our journey must go on because we have come too close to our goal to ever turn back now.  
  
So Thorin puts on a brave face as he bids Gandalf farewell and leads our company into the oppressive gloom that is the Mirkwood.  And still I wonder, _what terrible calamity could the world be facing for Smaug to seem the lesser danger?  What doom must stand upon our doorstep for the wizard to be called away on such short notice?_   All Gandalf would say to us was that he had wizard's business but that is a flimsy excuse at best and though he tried to hide it I could see the worry in his eyes as well.  
  
I explain my thinking to Kíli as we walk deeper into the forest and the last bright ray of sunshine disappears into the dark.  Although my brother listens intently to my fears, when I finish speaking he does not respond but simply turns away without a word.  However, I am not discouraged by his actions for that alone is progress and I know that eventually I will wear him down.  
  
 _Someday brother, you will thank me for this._  
  
\---  
  
The days pass slowly as we travel through the trees and the suffocating atmosphere lowers everyone's spirits.  Our morale is only worsened by the fact that several nights into the woods Kíli still refuses to speak to anyone other than Bilbo, who has withdrawn from all our company and flees at my brother's approach.  
  
Even lost in their own grim thoughts everyone cannot help but notice this change in the pair's relationship for the difference is stark and there is no privacy along the forest road.  Though they do not know the cause, each tries to help in his own way, working to bring my brother and our burglar out from behind the walls they've built, and their attempts help to ward off the chill dark beneath the trees.  
  
Bifur carves them wooden statues, fine and detailed work, while Ori knits each of them a brand new scarf to warm them while we ride.  Bombur gives the hobbit extra portions when he can, Óin teaches Kíli about the herbs used for medicine and Bofur splits his time between them as we walk.  Dori takes to mothering each of them at night, while Balin tells his best and brightest stories about the days of old.  Sly Nori shows off his skill at sleight of hand, Glóin his tricks with juggling and Dwalin treats them as if nothing at all has changed.  While through it all uncle Thorin only watches, eyes seeing everything and I feel his questioning gaze on my back when I do not go to my brother's side.  
  
I would like to and I am working on it, but it is nearly a week into our crossing before Kíli will even look at me for any length of time.  Perhaps I remind him too much of what he has lost and my brother must know that I am pleased by the separation between him and Bilbo, even though I do regret his pain.  So Kíli keeps his distance from me and his guarded demeanor makes it very difficult to bridge the chasm that divides us.  
  
In the end it is Mirkwood itself that makes the greatest difference because against such foul malevolence even the bitterest enemies must find common ground.  
  
\---  
  
Our reconciliation begins the day we discover that the road through the forest is blocked by a river, water foul and stagnant despite the speed at which it flows.  It looks as though there was once a bridge across but it stands no longer and no one is willing to risk swimming to the other side, not with the aura of pure enmity that emanates from the depths.  
  
We search for another way to cross and it is Kíli's sharp eyes that spot our salvation in the form of a small wooden boat tied loosely to the other bank.  When he points it out to uncle and then meets my eyes, for a moment we find ourselves in sync again.  Without words I know what he is asking and without words I give him my consent.  So it is my rope that Kíli ties to his arrow, and my hands that help him pull the boat free and over to our shore.  
  
As two of the lightest and nimblest, we paddle to the other side first and secure a rope around a tree across the river in order to turn our boat into a ferry.  This clears the way for the heavier ones among us and the initial crossings go well. Two to three members of our company are able to fit in the boat at a time and everyone moves themselves easily along the line, so before long nearly all of us have traveled onward.  
  
Finally it is only Thorin and Bombur who remain, for uncle will not leave a companion stranded and Bombur's weight makes his trip the most dangerous of the lot.  So it is with our hearts in our throats that we watch them settle, Bombur hunkered down in the bottom while Thorin pulls them carefully along.  For a moment it seems that all will be well and they have nearly reached the bank, but then there is a deafening crack as the boat begins to break between their feet.  
  
I shout to uncle to cut the line that's tied to the far shore and we begin hauling the rowboat in as fast as our arms can pull.  Yet just as it touches the bank and uncle leaps to safety, the wood splits completely and Bombur cannot find a place to stand.  He falls heavily into the river and we watch in horror as his eyes roll back into his head and he collapses in a heap.  Bombur starts to sink beneath the water and I fear that his life will be forfeit.  
  
However, then Kíli is at my side again and between the two of us we soon have ropes looped around his limbs.  With the aid of our companions we drag the cook to shore, all of us careful to keep the cursed water far away from our own skin.  
  
As we pull Bombur up onto the land and Óin rushes to his side, Kíli draws away from me and I feel our tenuous connection snap again.  Yet now I know it can be recovered, so my heart is lighter even as Óin cries out that Bombur will not wake.  He is still breathing steadily but some foul magic has hold of his mind and nothing that we try is any use.  
  
All the company can do is create a litter with which to carry him and attempt to press onward to our goal.  However, our progress through Mirkwood slows to a crawl for it takes six of us to carry him and we tire very soon beneath his weight.  I can feel the delay tearing at the corners of my mind and in my darkest moments I wish that we could leave him, throw him to the wolves and run for our lives.  Yet we persist though our food stores start to empty and all of us begin to fear that we will never be free of this foul place because we cannot abandon a companion, even one that may drag us to our doom.  
  
So it is a bright day indeed when Bombur finally wakes, a spot of cheer within the aura of deepening depression and despair that surrounds us.  He seems no worse for wear despite his days under the enchantment and the joy with which his brother and cousin greet him warms my heart.  It is this joy that gives me the courage to sit down next to Kíli as he stands his watch that night, and perhaps it is this joy that makes him finally decide not to turn away.  
  
Whatever the reason, this is my chance, so I place my hand on his arm and give him my apology, "I am sorry for your pain, brother.  But it is for the best."  
  
He stiffens then and looks at me with haunted eyes.  "How?"  Kíli asks hopelessly.  "How is this for the best?"  
  
I am caught off guard by the directness of his question, and I stammer as I look for the right words.  "Well, uh, because...Because you'll have your family and your people and someday you'll find love again and you'll grow old together.  I am sure of it."  
  
Something about my words seems to catch Kíli by surprise and he frowns deeply as he considers them.  I watch in confusion as a look of horrified realization spreads across his face, and then a fire ignites in his eyes as he whispers, "It was **you**!"  
  
Before I can collect my thoughts to respond, he grabs me by my coat and pulls me towards him, hissing furiously, "What did you tell him?  What did you do?!"  I cannot understand how Kíli figured out my part in Bilbo's rejection but at his anger I feel my own fury grow.  _Can't he see that I did it for him?_  
  
"I did what I had to do to protect you from making a terrible mistake!  You were going to ruin your life."  
  
"So you decided to ruin it for me?!"  He grips me tighter and I recoil from the sheer murder in his eyes.  "I will **never** forgive you for this.  You are no longer my brother, you are no longer my friend and when this quest is over you will not be my liege.  Take care of yourself Fíli for I will not watch your back."  
  
I open my mouth to protest then because this has gone all wrong, but before I can do more than whisper, demons drop down from the trees.  
  
They are spiders, foul, monstrous spiders and Kíli's eyes widen in pain as one bites deeply into his neck.  He has just enough time to shout a strangled warning and then the creature's poison takes him and he crumples at my feet.  I turn to look for the rest of our companions but while some of them roused at Kíli's shout, I can see that it is already far too late.  Most of the others have fallen beneath the creatures which are wrapping them in sticky, noxious webs and we who remain are too few to stand against the onslaught.  
  
Even as I stab one creature's grasping claw, I see Dwalin go down fighting under a swarm of the beasts and others snare my uncle's blade with their gaping maws.  I try to work my way toward Thorin so that we may stand together but before I reach him my eye is caught by the halfing.  
  
The spiders have ignored him so far, perhaps he is simply too small for their taste, and he appears to be searching desperately for something on the ground rather than pulling out his blade.  Yet as I watch, he shouts in triumph and then suddenly disappears, and I stare in shock until a sharp pain spreads like agony from my shoulder and the world goes dark.  
  
\---  
  
I wake slowly, my head muzzy and my thoughts thick and when I try to open my eyes I find that I cannot.  Without sight, without movement, without sound, I start to panic, for surely I could I not have fallen to such an inglorious death?  But no, gradually feeling returns to my limbs and I can feel the bonds that surround me, the ties that keep me still.  My head begins to clear and suddenly there are voices, though the sound fades in and out with my consciousness.  
  
"Kíli!  Kíli, wake up...all right?"  It sounds like the hobbit, worried and sharp; perhaps I had not been dreaming and he had escaped unscathed, now come to save our company once again.  
  
"Bilbo, what...?"  My brother then, he lives as well as I, and something in me eases at this knowledge.  
  
"Spiders.  Remember... need to... others."  
  
"Wait!..."  Kíli's voice is frantic now, _What could he be...?_   I start to twist frantically as I realize that my brother is trying to undo all my careful efforts, and if he can pierce through all my lies he will succeed.  But no matter how hard I struggle to move I remain trapped, helpless to stop it as all my plans unravel.  
  
"Please... Fíli told... lied!"  
  
"Lied?  He said... love once... forbidden... banished and alone... couldn't let that happen."  
  
"... too late... my heart already... grieve for you either way and... if I am banished... not leave me alone... I promise... Fíli is trying... but he is wrong... I don't regret choosing you."  
  
"...you sure?" The hobbit's voice is hopeful now, full of a tentative delight as he waits for my brother's response.  
  
When I hear it, "...just want to live with you..." followed by a joyful noise and what might be a kiss, I feel despair well up within me.  _That's torn it.  Unless this is just an hallucination brought on by the spider's poison, this is the end of everything.  Kíli will hate me now and for nothing._  
  
My brother's temper burns hot and fast and despite his earlier words he would have forgiven me soon enough.  But now that he has reconciled with Bilbo, Kíli will never take me back unless I accept his choice and that I simply cannot do.  I cannot watch my brother destroy his life, even if I must lose him over it and my best hope now is the hobbit suddenly dropping dead.  
  
I am brought from my fantasies of accidental murder when something cuts through my bonds and I land heavily on the ground.  Someone begins pulling strands away from my face and soon I can see again, opening my eyes to Dwalin kneeling above me while he frees me from the spider's web.  
  
As I sit up, I see my brother haunting the halfling's every step as though afraid to let him from his sight and I know that the words I heard were true.  So to distract myself from my failures I look around the clearing, checking on the remainder of our company.  
  
Dori and Nori are helping their brother while Glóin, Bombur and Bifur straighten up each other's clothes.  There are two more lumps on the ground that turn out to be Óin and Bofur and I can see Dwalin conferring with Balin, my brother and the hobbit.  I count again for with myself that is only twelve dwarves and a burglar and I am filled with horror when I realize that Thorin is the one who is not there.  
  
By this time the others of our company have reached the same conclusion and we huddle together to discuss what we can do.  There is a chaos for a moment as we all begin speaking but then Balin takes control and asks the hobbit to tell us what he knows of my uncle's fate.  
  
"I saw him fall to the spiders and he was carried off with the rest of you, but I lost sight of the creatures for quite some time.  Thorin must have woken up somewhere along the way and escaped because only you twelve were here when I arrived."  Bilbo explains before continuing, "I know we must find him somehow but first we should leave this place and quickly, for though I killed many spiders there may be more of them hiding out there in the dark."  
  
The hobbit waves his hand toward one side of the clearing and for the first time I notice the giant corpses there; our burglar was being modest because I count more than five of the fell creatures laying cold and dead upon the ground.  
  
"You have quite a sting on you laddie," Balin says in admiration.  "But you are right and we should leave before more danger finds us.  Let us backtrack along the spiders' trail and perhaps we shall find a sign of Thorin there."  
  
The plan is sound and we gather ourselves together and then retreat as fast as we are able.  We travel quickly for dwarves that were just poisoned but we find no trace of my uncle and soon we cannot find the trail at all.  The hobbit stares around us in bewilderment when we stop short, gazing at the endless and unbroken trees.  
  
"I don't understand, it should be here.  It's as if the forest grew up just behind the spiders in order to cover up their path."  
  
Perhaps it did, for now that we are deeper in the wood the sense of foul malevolence has only strengthened. Truly it rises from the ground and seeps out from the trees and I am not particularly surprised when we turn to find that the way back to the spiders is gone as well.  But whatever the atmosphere, our company is exhausted from our ordeal and so we take this chance to rest and regroup.  
  
No one is terribly injured considering the events of the last few hours, but there are wounds enough for Óin to clean and bind.  As the old dwarf tends to our injuries, most of the others sort through our gear to see what we managed to save during the attack and I am grateful that we at least still have our weapons.  However our food and water stores are dangerously low, especially now that we are irrevocably lost.  
  
Balin, my brother, and the hobbit huddle around our map but even with Kíli's keen sense of direction and Bilbo's knowledge of the spiders' path I do not expect them to do much good.  There are no signs by which to find direction in the twilight gloom of the Mirkwood and even if we locate ourselves how are we supposed to find Thorin?  Addled by the venom, uncle could have traveled anywhere and he has never been known for taking the most direct route.  
  
Yet we must try and our company eventually agrees to take the straightest path toward Erebor from where we think we are in the hope that Thorin would have tried to do the same.  
  
Thus the thirteen of us set out as soon as we are able, weapons drawn and ready and twitching at every unfamiliar sound.  I offer to take point so that I can avoid looking my brother because now that he has regained his hobbit the change in Kíli is obvious, his brooding silence replaced by laughter and cheer once again.  While the rest of the company is glad of his high spirits to help counteract the weight of their own fears, I know the cause and it brings me no joy.  Indeed I cannot bear to look at them for I see the return of lingering touches and private smiles and the knowledge makes me sick.  
  
So after nearly two days of slogging through the dense and angry forest, finding myself hungry, tired and cold with no sign of my uncle and having to watch while Kíli and Bilbo play out their epic romance in loving stares before my eyes, being captured by elves is almost a relief.  
  
\---  
  
Our group stumbles upon them abruptly; one minute we are alone in these foul woods and the next facing a wall of glinting steel.  We try to close ranks against them but our company is weary and weak and we can do little against a score of elvish archers.  
  
So though I fight and struggle, I am soon stripped of my weapons and trussed like a turkey for the slaughter with the rest.  I burn with anger as our captors talk above our heads, laughing and discussing us in their lilting foreign tongue.  Though I am no master, Thorin taught me some of Thranduil's language in preparation for our quest and I catch enough to know that they find us short, ugly, and noisy, and they will take us to their king.  
  
The journey that follows is a lesson in humiliation as the elves have no patience for our trips and stumbles, just prod us with their spears until we regain our feet.  They do not speak to us and rarely to each other, and the only response their captain gives to all our questions is a condescending smirk.  Our captors goad us onward as fast as we are able and it is only when Ori passes out with exhaustion that the elves finally allow us a moment to rest.  
  
Attempts to speak are met with glares and naked steel, so as we huddle together the company slips into _Iglishmêk_ instead.  
  
 _'All safe, not hurt?'_   Dwalin signs to the group, using minimal gestures to hide his actions from the guard, and thankfully this question is answered with assent all around.  _'Where hobbit?'_   He asks then, and as I look around I realize that he is right and the halfling is not there.  I had not seen him on our journey but I had been busy trying not to stumble and had assumed that he was simply out of view.  
  
 _'Escaped.  Follows.'_   Kíli tells him and this news is met with happiness and relief.  Even I, who was secretly hoping that some terrible fate had befallen Bilbo, can recognize the value of having an ally free and clear.  Then there is no more time to talk because we are forced to stand again and just as the next day passes into night we find ourselves standing in front of the elf king's hall.  
  
It is a monstrous thing, all twisted wood and rock and built into the living trees around it, and the sight makes me yearn for the solace of a proper mountain home.  We are met at the entrance by yet another group of emotionless elvish warriors, though by their dress this set is probably an honor guard.  
  
Our captors hand our weapons over to the newcomers and most of the score walk off into the trees while the captain hangs around, throwing us another laughing smirk.  Then Balin signs one last warning, _'Say nothing!'_ , before our company is led inside and forced to kneel before the High King of Mirkwood himself.  
  
 _Thranduil!_ I think viciously, staring up at him in hate.  He looks just as I have always imagined from uncle's many stories: cold, aloof and oh, so proud.  Like all his race, his face is ageless and he would have appeared exactly the same on the day that he looked down upon the suffering of our people and declared us unworthy of his aid.  Yet as much as I see my feelings reflected in the faces of the other dwarves around me, we hold our tongues because we know that we do not have the power now to avenge our ancient wrongs.  _But we will, someday we will_.  
  
The elf king sneers down upon us and then speaks to the captain in Westron, using the common tongue so that we can understand his scorn. "Tauriel, wherever did you find this ragged lot?"  
  
His voice is soft and disdainful, as is hers when she answers, "Wandering the wood, my lord, lost and loud as thunder."  Glóin cannot help but grumble at the insult that she pays us and the elf king turns his piercing stare upon our group.  "And why exactly would a band of dwarves such as yourselves be wandering **my** wood?"  
  
Balin steps forward slightly and through an act of great willpower manages to sound more or less polite when he replies.  "We are just a small company that has lost our homeland and is now trying to make our way in the world.  And we were not exactly wandering, we were attacked by spiders on the path and they caused us to lose our way...my lord."  
  
"And what was your destination and your purpose that you would travel such a dangerous road?"  
  
"I am sorry but our errand is our own...my lord."  Balin declines gently, but Thranduil's face pinches slightly in what on a dwarf would likely be a scowl.  
  
"Really?  And if I told you that I had found one of your kinsmen, injured and alone, and granted him my hospitality, what would you tell me then?"  _Uncle, he's alive!_  
  
"Then we would thank you for the rescue of our friend and ask to be reunited as soon as you permit.  We were separated from him by fell beasts in the dark...my lord."  
  
"I am afraid that he resides in my dungeons because he refused to tell me the location of his journey's end, and you will join him shortly if you do not reveal your quest." At these words a growl rises from our company and I feel the same fury building in my chest.  Had I my weapons I would leap for Thranduil's throat and damn the consequences and when Balin speaks, he speaks for all.  
  
"Our business is ours and ours alone.  Our mouths are sealed against your threats and we will gladly accept the hospitality of your cells for we have the strength to keep our oaths."  
  
Thranduil's face darkens when he hears this and his voice is filled with malice.  "If you will not speak then you are liars, fools, or thieves and whichever it may be, you deserve your fate...Take them to the dungeons and let them rot there until they change their minds."  At his command, the guards drag us off and search us to the skin before separating our company and despite all my struggles I soon find myself imprisoned and alone.  
  
\---  
  
Days pass in this bare captivity as I discover that there is truly nothing to be done: the door is impregnable, the walls without cracks, and when I'm fed and watered there are too many guards to jump.  So I have nothing but time on my hands and this soon becomes a torture.  For while the necessity of survival and my deep hatred of the elves had driven it temporarily from my mind, now my brother's trespass weighs heavily on my thoughts once more.  
  
I replay the past weeks of our journey over and over in my head, remembering all the signs that I had missed at the time and I cannot help but feel that I should have been able to stop his folly.  Perhaps if I had just recognized the problem earlier, I could have hammered out the fault before it went this far.  Kíli was mine to protect and I have failed in my duty; I have let him fall into dishonor and disgrace.  
  
Yet even as I know that there is nothing more left to try, because Kíli will not forgive me for lying to his hobbit and the hobbit will not trust a word I say, my failure still eats at my peace of mind.  
  
All I can do now is protect my family's honor and make sure that no one else discovers my brother's transgression, that no one else finds out what brought Durin's youngest low.  I will keep my brother's secret until our quest is over and hope that Mahal has granted me a miracle by then.  _Maybe if Smaug eats the halfling, Kíli will finally come to his senses and rediscover honor in his grief._  
  
It is in this fugue of boredom and despair that the burglar finds me, knocking softly at the bars that cross my cell.  I discover that I am glad to see a familiar face, even one that I still hate, and I am twice as glad for the news he brings.  There is a message from my uncle that all of us are well and we are to hold fast to our silence until the hobbit finds a way to break us out.  While I am somewhat doubtful of Bilbo's skill, he has made it this far and it is good to have even such a small ray of hope to break the gloom.  
  
The hobbit does not stay long, just says his piece and moves on quickly, for it seems that I am also the last person that he wants to talk to.  Though near the door he pauses briefly as if he wants to add something, but then he turns and scuttles away.  _Probably going to stare longingly at Kíli through his bars,_ I think in disgust, left to silence and solitude again.  
  
This pattern repeats over the next couple of days:  Bilbo arrives, speaks his message, pauses and leaves, until finally the burglar finds his nerve.  Just before he exits the hobbit pauses as usual, but this time he turns back and visibly steels himself before asking quietly, "I have to know, why did you lie?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why did you lie to me so that I would break your brother's heart?"  
  
"Because I had to.  It was the only way."  I tell him bitterly, hoping he will stop poking at the wound.  
  
"The only way to do what?"  Yet the hobbit will not give up, and as he sounds genuinely curious to know I find myself telling him the truth even as my annoyance grows.  "To keep Kíli from throwing everything away for some besotted dream. To keep him from destroying his future."  
  
"But he doesn't want that future.  Doesn't Kíli get to have a choice?"  
  
"Not when his choice is wrong!  He's supposed to be a Prince of Erebor, not a goddamned **hobbit-fucker!** "  I roar as my control snaps.  _How **dare** you question that I know what's best for my brother?_   Before the hobbit can respond we hear elvish voices in the distance and Bilbo quickly slips away, but he comes back the very next morning to bother me again.  
  
I glare at him through the bars because his earlier questioning has left me in a foul mood, but he just shrugs off my anger and asks calmly, "So what exactly is wrong with being a hobbit-fucker?"  
  
I look up at him in shock and am answering before I think.  "It's a disgrace, a perversion of nature.  Bad enough that my brother has taken up with a male but you're not even a dwarf!"  
  
"Aren't there very few dwarf women, so few that most dwarves never marry?  If that is true then what difference does it make?"  
  
"Commoners maybe, but Kíli is a Son of Durin and he must carry on the line.  I suppose as long as he married he could have lovers on the side and it would be acceptable enough.  But to pledge his heart to a hobbit is unthinkable; no woman would touch him and he would become the laughingstock of our people.  It would mean the ultimate shame upon our house."  
  
"It seems rather more dishonorable to force him to marry and then let him cheat on his wife.  At least in the Shire we mean our vows when we make them."  The hobbit retorts testily.  
  
His words resonate inside my mind and make my voice turn sharp.  "Do not talk to me of vows when Kíli is forsaking his family, his oaths, and his duty for you."  
  
"Kíli's not..."  But then the guards return again and the hobbit is gone.  When he returns some days later I am far more subdued for our conversations have reminded me of what this quest has already cost.  _My dear, sweet baby brother, full of innocence and curiosity has gone where I simply cannot follow_.  And perhaps Bilbo senses my grief for he tries a different tack.  
  
"He still loves you, you know."  The burglar says quietly, sitting outside of my cell.  "You are his older brother and he loves you."  
  
I laugh bitterly.  "Right.  He loves me so much that he's rejecting me and everything that he should hold dear."  
  
"He doesn't want to reject you, he just has different dreams.  You're the one who's making him choose."  
  
"And he's the one that's choosing you!  It doesn't matter if Kíli loves me, it doesn't matter if he's happy, not with the price he is willing to pay in order to achieve his twisted dream.  I will never grant you my blessing, not for this."  
  
"Then I suppose there is nothing more to say.  I hope that someday you will find it in yourself to compromise."  Bilbo leaves then and as I watch him go I wonder if I should have told him that all his hope will come to naught.  There is a reason they speak of the stubbornness of dwarves and my stance will never bend as long as there remains the slightest possibility that Kíli can be saved.  So I will wait, I will protect his reputation, and I will wait for opportunity to knock.  
  
\---  
  
When I next see the hobbit there are no more conversations because Bilbo holds the keys to my captivity dangling in his hands.  He releases me from my prison and I follow him down into the cellars where I find the rest of our company waiting by the water.  
  
The burglar explains that Thranduil's court and guard are distracted by a celebration, making this our best chance to flee the elf king's grasp.  We will escape upon the river, riding barrels to our freedom and though the thought is terrifying, the thought of staying here is worse.  So the hobbit leaves to see what weapons he can find while we dwarves start packing each other away into the casks, which thankfully are large enough that even Bombur fits.  
  
Bilbo returns shortly and the haul is disappointing, though he apologizes profusely for the lack.  It seems that most of our weapons are locked away and Thranduil has Orcrist hanging by his side, though the burglar did at least manage to find a dagger for each of us and retrieve my brother's bow.  
  
When Bilbo hands back the latter, Kíli strokes his cheek gently and confirms again that he is standing by the choice that he has made.  I turn away from the sight to enter my own barrel, as I remind myself forcibly that nothing has really changed; I knew all this already even if I hadn't seen the proof, I've known it since my brother cursed me before the spiders in the dark.  
  
The trip that follows is a nightmare as the inside of the barrel would be claustrophobic even for one used to living underground.  It is cold, dank, and dark as I tumble about upon the river, and every time we hit a rapid the water splashes through the cracks and soaks me to the skin.  
  
By the time the casks come to rest against the riverbank, I have lost all sense of time and of direction and when Bilbo finally pries the lid off of my barrel, for a moment all I can do is lean on the edge and gasp.  
  
Thus it is a worn and waterlogged company that staggers out of the river and collapses thankfully on solid ground, but despite all of my discomfort is is good to see the others again after the long weeks alone in the elf king's jail.  Once we have recovered enough to stand we look to the east and a short distance away we can see the river flowing into Esgaroth, the Long Lake, which stands on Mirkwood's eastern edge.  
  
Upon the surface of the water float the tall wooden buildings that make up the island city of Laketown, the lone settlement of those men still brave enough to live in the shadow of the dragon, and then I look past it and see the tall solitary peak of the Lonely Mountain, of my uncle's kingdom, rising into the sky beyond.  Seeing it so close, my heart fills to breaking and I know that the other dwarves must feel the same, especially those that lived to see our people scattered.  
  
Now after so many long years in exile, after a generation that was born with nothing to their names, the dwarves of Erebor are coming home at last.

 


	4. Rift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this chapter is nearly twice as long as any other but it didn't want to split so ah well. Don't get too used to this though because the next one will probably be much shorter.

With the sight of the mountain rising before us, our spirits lift and it is a cheerful company that walks from the riverside to the borders of Esgaroth.  The trip is filled with laughter and song and many toasts to the burglar who organized our escape for it is good to be free again, and only I and Thorin do not join in.  
  
When I see my uncle's serious face, I put aside my own troubles and walk to his side, asking him to share his thoughts.  Even if my brother is lost to me for now, I can at least protect the family that remains and grant my uncle solace if I may.  
  
"There is nothing to be said, nothing that you do not already know.  We have lost much time to the treachery of the elf king and the absence of our weapons could mean the difference between life and death if the dragon still breathes within the mountain.  At least your brother has his bow and we are not entirely unarmed but that is small comfort against the power of the beast."  His voice is grave and I am shocked by the despair I hear within.  
  
"Surely it is not as bad as that.  The men of Laketown may aid us and we do not know if Smaug is even still alive.  He may have passed onward long ago as you have hoped and when the wizard returns he can help us with our plans,"  I offer Thorin these reassurances in an attempt to ease his mind, though I do not truly believe them, but uncle will not accept such false comfort.  
  
"No, nephew, the world is bleak and spare.  We cannot wait for the wizard, not with Durin's Day so close, and any aid we receive we will not get for free.  Why would these men remain here in the shadow of the mountain unless they thought that one day they could claim its treasure?  And having met the elf king, do you truly believe that Erebor would not have been ransacked already if the dragon did not guard its door?"  
  
Against this relentless logic there is little I can say and my thoughts turn dark as he continues.   "No, their greedy eyes still rest on our family's gold just as in the past and they will fall upon us like scavengers if we show the slightest weakness."  
  
"But what can we do?  We are hardly the picture of dwarven might right now."  I ask, hoping that he will have an answer for me as he always has before.  
  
"We will keep quiet about our mission while in Laketown, act as though we are simply travelers who have come upon hard times.  Our company may accept any offered aid but what we receive we must pay good price for so that the men cannot say a debt remains when the truth is finally told.  And we shall kill the dragon through the strength of our own hands or die in the attempt because when I reclaim my throne I will have no one claim that the line of Durin owes its place to any other."  
  
By the time uncle finishes speaking, the company has arrived at the edge of the great water and is standing only a short distance away from the long wooden bridge that connects the floating city of Laketown to the shore.  This side of the bridge is unguarded, which speaks to me of poorly planned defenses, but there is a gate visible before the entrance at the other end and presumably someone will meet us there.  
  
Thorin explains his plan and his reasoning to the company and all agree that it is sound, though I can see some doubt on my brother's face.  However, doubt or no, he will follow my uncle's word for even in his madness Kíli has yet to break an oath he swore, though he treads across the laws of our people with nary a backwards glance.  
  
So everyone agrees to keep our purpose secret and then we step out upon the bridge that will carry us to Laketown.  As our company walks upon the planks, I look nervously over the side for although I can swim well enough I do not enjoy it and the water is deep and murky.  
  
 _Perhaps this is a good defense after all, cut the ropes and leave us stranded, then pick us off with archers.  All this water might help to protect them against the dragon as well._  
  
The other warriors in our company obviously share my worried thoughts because there is a great sigh of relief when we finally reach the large platform on the other side of the bridge and stand before the entrance.  Uncle hammers on the gate with a thunderous pounding against the wood and if they had somehow missed our arrival before they surely could not miss us now.  Indeed, as the last echoes of his knocks ring out and fade there is a call from the wall above.  
  
"Who goes there?  Speak your name and state your business."  The voice orders, stern and wary, and rightly so since we are a large party and it would have been many years since dwarves had passed this way.  However, before uncle can name us travelers from distant lands who are seeking rest and shelter for the night, there is a loud commotion beyond the palisade.  
  
"Open the gate lad, open the gate and let them in," another man cries out, and he holds power because no sooner does he finish speaking then the enormous wooden bars come up and the gates swing back.  
  
Rather confused by this turn of events, we watch suspiciously as a tall human strides toward us through the opening and stops in front of Thorin.  He is old for their kind, with short grey hair and a thick beard, but he has lost none of his stature nor strength with his years and he easily carries a long wooden staff in one hand.  Atop the staff is a carved symbol that must mark him as either leader or guide to these people for he is flanked by a pair of guards as well.  These two are younger men, both dressed in leather and chain armor, and one carries a great bow slung across his back.  
  
Uncle opens his mouth to demand an explanation for this bizarre greeting, but the old human cuts him off sharply.  
  
"I thought I recognized you, Thorin Oakenshield, though you have not been seen in these parts since long before my mother bore me.  But the Masters of Laketown have passed down your description and a drawing of your face for generations so that we could aid you when you at last returned to claim your crown.  To think that the day has finally come; please enter and be welcome. Rest your weary bodies and let us help you with your quest because we have long lived in the dragon's shadow and yearned for his destruction."  
  
Thorin's protests cannot stand against such utter certainty and before long we have been swept into the town's main square where we find humans cheering our arrival on all sides.  The Master leads us into the great wooden building at the center of the square and there we are finally called to council.  
  
He gathers us around a large round table and as soon as the door closes behind us and blocks his people's gaze, the adoring smile disappears from the old man's face.  Now he is all the Master and none of the fool as he stares grimly at our small group.  
  
"Gentlemen, shall we talk business?"  He asks, though truly it is not a question but a demand.  "My people may be overjoyed to hear that the King Under the Mountain has returned to defeat the beast and reclaim his gold, thus bringing trade and prosperity back to these lonely parts, but we all know that it won't be so simple as that."  
  
Thorin inclines his head and how he keeps his temper against such blatant disregard I will never know.  "Indeed, the journey has been long and we have encountered bad luck upon the way, but you need not fear that we lack a plan.  We will pay well for whatever aid you grant us and Smaug will be defeated by dwarven steel, I swear to that."  
  
"This is good to hear, because the safety of my people is of course my first concern.  We will be happy to offer you our hospitality while you purchase what you require and I assure you that our prices will be fair, though you need not pay immediately if it is too great a hardship."  
  
Now that he knows what he stands to gain and for such little risk, the Master recovers his friendly smile and I think that uncle is right to say that men have greedy hearts.  He is practically salivating at the thought of a dwarf king in his debt and no doubt there are images of treasure chests running through his mind.  He will be sorely disappointed when we settle all our accounts before we go.  
  
"My dear friend here will show you to a house where you can stay while you are with us.  You should be able to find everything you need in our markets but if there is something special that we can do for you, do not hesitate to ask."  He waves his arm at the man with the bow, who stands and leads us out of the room.  
  
\---  
  
As we travel through Laketown, it feels as though the entire population has come to gawk and glare but thankfully the presence of the human seems to keep them all at bay.  Kíli is of course fascinated by the large bow that the man carries and soon they strike up a friendly conversation.  
  
The man introduces himself as Bard the Bowman and cheerfully points out the different sights and landmarks in the town as we walk past, elaborating on the history of the city in response to Kíli's subtle leading questions.  Thus, by the time that we have reached our borrowed house, my brother has learned all about the human's family, and his skill with a bow. He has also discovered the various defenses of Laketown, Bard's dream of avenging his ancestor Girion's death and his hope of one day rebuilding the city of Dale.  He has even wrung a promise from the man that they will shoot together if we have the time.  
  
 _Kíli, master of the friendly interrogation_ , I think to myself as I watch Bard walk away, for the human obviously does not realize that the scale of information gained is tilted firmly toward our side, and then I turn and follow the rest into our house.  It is a nice place, probably one of the better dwellings in the town, which means that the Master is erring on the side of caution and avoiding all possible insult to Erebor's once and future king.  
  
The company gathers in the main room and each of us starts pulling out our hidden stashes, the valuables sewn into seams and hems.  The hobbit watches with wide eyes as the pile grows but when you live on other's sufferance there are many tricks you learn, and like our doors, dwarf pockets are invisible when closed.  Once we have finished, there is a fair bit of wealth laying on the table and uncle nods in satisfaction because that should be enough to serve our needs.  
  
Since the hour is getting late we will leave our shopping for tomorrow, so tonight our company simply determines what we need and the length of the list is disheartening.  
  
We require weapons and armor with which to fight the dragon, and enough clothes to get us there.  Óin is low on medicines and we are out of food entirely, which is particularly worrying if our battle turns into a siege.  There are a few more items missing that can wait until after we have regained Erebor but it is unlikely that any perishables still remain within the mountain and these supplies we will need to take our kingdom back.  
  
There is little else to do this evening and we are all exhausted from our ordeal so we decide to turn in for the night.  The house is large enough that the majority of our company does not have to share, and I stretch out gleefully on the first real bed I've had since we left Beorn's hospitality so many weeks ago.  Though my mind is still dark with worries over the fight that is to come, the hint of despair lingering in my uncle's gaze and hiding the transgression that Kíli so joyfully commits, it is not long before my eyelids droop and I drift deeply into dreams.  
  
On the following morning once everyone has woken, Thorin divides the gold among us and hands out our duties for the day.  Kíli, the hobbit, and Ori are in charge of talking with the tailors; Dwalin, Balin, and uncle will seek the means of dealing death; Bombur, Glóin and Dori will replenish our stores of food, while Óin and I must see about medicines and armor.  
  
Finally, Bofur, Bifur and Nori will try to augment our dwindling funds, the first two by selling toys and buttons which they carved over the course of our journey and the latter through means we may wish to plausibly deny.  The goal is to complete our purchases quickly so that we can continue our journey the next morning because now we have less than a month remaining before Durin's Day arrives.  
  
Thankfully my task is accomplished easily; though the merchants of Laketown have only a small selection, what they have will serve us well enough.  The humans must trade primarily with the elves based on the armor that I see, but while little of it is made to fit people of our stature, it is the type that can be adjusted without difficulty.  Indeed, the armorers practically throw themselves upon me to volunteer when they see the color of my money and the task will be finished rapidly with so many able hands.  _It seems that true gold has not been seen in these parts for many, many years; Thranduil must be a stingy bastard_.  
  
When my errand is complete, I return to the house to discover that the others have had fair success as well.  Our food and medicine are fully restocked, the toymakers did a brisk business with excited children and like the armor, our clothes will be ready for fitting tonight; the isolation means that labor is cheap in this town and customers such as us are rare.  
  
Though I have to bite my tongue when I see what Bilbo is wearing, the halfling dressed in a parody of dwarven garb.  No one seems to realize how ridiculous it is for this imposter to be claiming membership within our clan and I have to look away from my brother's triumphant glance.  The weapons are also disappointing because none of them have the quality of proper dwarven steel and Thorin could not find replacements to match some of our company's odder fighting styles.  However, in truth, even with the arms that we left in the elf king's hall, a frontal attack on the dragon would be naught but suicide.  We will need trickery to bring down our ancient foe and these weapons are sharp enough for that.  
  
So we busy ourselves with repairs and preparations until it is time for our fittings and despite my doubts, the tailors are accomplished at their trades.  Once every member of the company proclaims themselves satisfied, uncle allows us the remainder of the night to do with as we will, to rest and relax and finally have some fun.  Which, being dwarves, means that it's time to find a tavern and this is exactly what we do.  
  
Thus the fourteen members of our company stride into the largest tavern in town and Thorin calls for ale in his deep demanding voice as the rest of us shove tables into the center of the room.  When we have enough together that all of us can sit comfortably, we sprawl around them and start the very important task of pickling our brains.  
  
After the first hour, we all have a comfortable buzz beneath our skin, and I watch gleefully as Bofur attempts to build a castle from our empty mugs.  It's actually quite an impressive structure with fine walls, a bailey and a main keep which has one tall tower in the center and I notice from the corner of my eye that more and more men are trailing through the door to watch it grow in awe.  
  
Eventually we have drunk enough that Bofur has almost completed it for there are just the last few tower mugs to add, but even standing on the table the dwarf discovers that he simply cannot reach.  When the last attempt leaves him teetering and only Kíli's quick actions pull him back from falling on the gate, Bofur leans back and surveys the room until he finds the one he seeks.  
  
"Bard, Bard the Bowman.  Come over here and help me out will you?"  Bofur calls, waving the last two mugs in the man's direction and the archer happily answers his summons.  
  
"What can I do for you master dwarf?"  Bard asks and is quickly handed a mug and pointed toward a chair.  
  
"Stand on that and finish this for me will you?  Put those long arms of yours to good use."  
  
The man does as asked and the entire tavern cheers when the last mug is placed and the whole structure does not come tumbling down.  Of course, right at that moment Nori trips coming back from refilling his drink and slams into the table to send a rain of mugs down upon our heads.  Everyone collapses in laughter as the hobbit shrieks and ducks under the table, yelling that if he gets a concussion it will all be Nori's fault.  
  
Now that there is no more danger to be found, other men gather around our company in interest, listening to the tales that drunken dwarves will tell.  Balin is in fine form as he pulls out some of our raunchiest legends and I can see my brother deep in conversation with Bard once again, the halfling watching them intently as they talk.  Drunk as I am, I cannot afford to look long at the hobbit for I am sure to say something foolish, but fortunately just then one of the men breaks out into a roaring song.  
  
"Oh when I was a little lad my honest mother told me,  
That if I didn't kiss the girls my lips would grow all moldy,  
So I chased the bonny lasses round and caught one to be my wife  
And now when I go kiss the girls she pulls out a bloody knife."  
  
The whole place erupts with merriment and as the tune is a simple variation of a common drinking song, our company soon finds its voice and joins right in.  
  
"The legends say that dwarves are born from air and rock and stone  
For whenever we go traveling we leave your wives alone,  
But it's the beards we think are lacking on your ladies tall and fair  
We're not used to seeing women who have quite so little hair."  
  
This begins a long contest between us dwarves and the men to see who can come up with the wittiest, dirtiest lyrics without letting the rhythm slide.  I'm proud to say that we are winning because there are no lyricists that can match a dwarf in full drunken song, and I have just finished my latest verse when I look around the tavern and realize that my brother is not there.  Bard is now absorbed in conversation with Dori, while the chair that Kíli was sitting in is occupied by a slumbering Ori, and as I search the place again I discover that the hobbit has disappeared as well.  
  
 _He wouldn't!_   I think in horror, but I know that Kíli probably would, young and drunk and horny and with an actual bed to use.  
  
 _Well I'll just see about that_ , I think to myself as I inform uncle that I'm leaving and then rush out of the door.  Kíli may have enough sense to wait until he and the hobbit are behind locked doors before indulging his depravity, but I cannot risk it, not with so many people around to see and us so close to our goal.  
  
I am slightly relieved as I trace my steps back to our house without seeing hide nor hair of the couple, but that relief fades as soon as I walk in our door.  Kíli and the hobbit are not in sight but I can hear them and they are obviously making no attempt to keep it down.  So I follow the moans and gasps and groaning up the stairs and quickly avert my eyes when I see my brother pressing Bilbo to the wall outside their room, hand inside the hobbit's shirt and mouth sucking bruises into his neck.  
  
"What are you doing?  Are you crazy?  Someone could see you!"  I yell furiously, blocking my sight with my hand.  
  
I hear the hobbit squeak in surprise, but when Kíli answers his voice holds no apology.  "There's no one here but you, Fíli, and the rest won't be back for hours.  We have plenty of time to do what we want with none the wiser."  
  
"You swore to me!  You promised that none would discover your disgrace and this is how you plan to keep that vow?  Parading your dishonor in the halls for all to see,"  I am angry enough now to glare at him directly despite the display the couple makes but Kíli stares back at me and his eyes are entirely without shame.  
  
"You and your dishonor.  I swear you care more about my reputation than I do, but I know, I know, _I'd hurt the family name_."  His voice is bitter, almost hostile now.  "You realize that if we kill Smaug, I could keep a harem of elves and the songs would still sing our praises until the light finally fades from the world?  But yes, I remember my promise that no one would know.  And no one will, because if you would just leave us be then we'd be done before they return, and even if we weren't do you honestly think any of them would notice, drunk out of their minds?"  
  
I'm struck speechless for a moment by the blatant disregard he shows for how his actions affect uncle and our family, how his actions affect me.  _Does he simply not care that this would ruin him, ruin all of us?  Or does he truly think that it would be all right?_   Kíli takes my silence as agreement and goes back to kissing the halfling, pulling him tight against his body as Bilbo moans filthily and wraps an arm around his neck.  
  
"Mahal's fury, do you have to do that in front of me?"  I yell again, but Kíli just rolls his eyes.  
  
"Well you could leave, and then you wouldn't have to see anything would you?"  He asks sarcastically, for once the perfect image of my wayward little brother once again.  The similarity makes me wince and long for better days but I shove that feeling roughly aside.  
  
"At least go in your room, will you?  In case one of the others comes back."  I ask testily, opening the door and looking at them pointedly.  Thankfully Kíli finally assents to that, pulling the hobbit inside the room and slamming it shut behind them.  I hear the lock click and then he calls back through the door, "Now go away!"  
  
However, as much as I dearly wish to, I cannot.  _What if someone comes back early just as I did?  What if they're too loud and uncle discovers their disgrace?_  
  
I have to keep his secret if there is to be any hope of maintaining my kingdom and my honor. If there is to be any hope of restoring my brother's reputation when he finally breaks free of this madness and so I set myself to guard the door, trying to ignore the heated moans and thumps that echo through the wall.  I have never wanted to know what Kíli sounds like in the throes of passion, and I certainly never wanted the mental images that their groaning gives.  But even in this I will do what must be done.  
  
It is a long and uncomfortable period until they finally fall silent and I am able to stagger at last to my own bed.  Shortly afterward I hear the first member of our company stumble in the door and I finally allow myself to fall into a light and restless sleep.  
  
\---  
  
Our fellowship embarks late the next morning for most of us overdid it and wake with aching heads.  Only Kíli and the hobbit are bright and cheerful as they help the others pack, though looking at them now makes my stomach roll.  
  
However, we are eventually ready to leave and we make our way back to the Laketown causeway where the Master meets us to say farewell.  Bard is there as well and offers a friendly goodbye to many of the company whom he had become quite fond of over our night of drunken revelry, though of course Kíli is still his favorite.  
  
My head is pounding too hard to really pay much attention but I am cheered by the look on the Master's face when uncle thanks him for his hospitality and hands him more than enough coin to settle any remaining debts between us.  _Serves him right for trying to capitalize on our misfortune,_ I think viciously as he turns away in obvious disappointment.  
  
A short time later we are back on solid ground and heading toward the Lonely Mountain where our quest will finally end.  At first the trip is pleasant enough, for the day is clear and the scenery fine and as the company finally walks off its excesses, our spirits rise in song.  
  
"We're heading back to Erebor before the week is done  
Heading back to claim our gold and give it to our sons.  
We're gonna kill a dragon lads, cut him fiercely on the snout  
Bring him down and show the world what dwarves are all about."  
  
But the words cut off sharply as we crest a hill and take in our first view of the charred wasteland known as the Desolation of Smaug.  Nothing grows there: no bushes, no trees, no flowers.  There are no birds and no animals, just the blackened earth and charred stumps that remain as a twisted echo of the life long vanished.  This barrenness stretches on for leagues, all the way to the foot of the mountain, and it is impossible to keep up our hopes in the face of such destruction.  
  
 _What can we do against power like this?  What can we hope to accomplish?_   Yet as I look at uncle to see if he still shares my worries, I discover that there is a strange light in his eyes, almost an exultation, and I realize that he feels no fear.  
  
Whatever doubts Thorin had are falling by the wayside, lost to the battle fury taking hold at this chance to finally face the beast that drove him from his home and destroyed all that he held dear.  I can see it in the others, now that I look, all the others who lived through the sack of Erebor and the Battle of Azanulbizar, and I realize that this quest is not just about our kingdom, it is about our vengeance.  
  
This strange mood spreads throughout our company and soon I am also ensnared beneath its spell as we march quickly onward to meet our triumph or our doom.  It no longer matters that our quest is likely suicide, for what could be a better way to die?  Either we will slay the creature, avenge our kin and reclaim the homeland that we lost, or we will perish in the attempt and die a glorious death fighting for the only things that matter: honor, pride, treasure and the righting of our wrongs.  
  
Only Kíli and the hobbit seem uneasy at this change in the atmosphere.  Only they do not seem to find solace at the thought of a magnificent death, but they keep their worries quiet and I am too filled with euphoria to think on them for long.  
  
The only consideration now is reaching the mountain in time to find the hidden door, because the new year is almost upon us.  So we march on the double and we march through the night, buoyed by the singing in our veins and as the first light of Durin's Day dawns in the east our company reaches the base of the mountain.  
  
Thorin orders us to make a quick camp and then we begin climbing, we must locate the door before the last light falls.  However, the task is not easy because our only clue as to its whereabouts is that it is by a grey stone on which a thrush would knock.  However, clever Nori realizes that if the last light of Durin's Day is to be our guide, the keyhole must be on the western face, which narrows the search down slightly.  
  
Yet for all our seeking, time passes quickly without us discovering a grey stone of any sort and the company soon becomes frantic as we rush about.  _To come so far and then fail now,_ I think desperately, for it is not to be born, cannot be born.  In the distance, the sun begins to set and as I am about to give in to despair, the hobbit runs off, shouting over his shoulder for us to follow.  
  
"I hear it.  I hear the thrush," he yells as he runs up the path, Kíli close on his heels, and as we comprehend his words the rest of the company charges after.  Following his trail we crest the rise and reach a small ledge where a plain brown bird is beating a snail against the rock.  
  
At this moment the sun drops down over the horizon and its last golden gleam intersects with the light of the rising moon and reveals a depression in the stone.  Thorin pulls out my grandfather's key and rushes over to it, exclaiming triumphantly when it fits inside and with a click and a turn the door pulls back and the way into Erebor is open.  
  
However, from the passage there comes a smell like brimstone, like an overheated forge, and a deep rumbling noise that must be a dragon's breath.  The cheers of our company fall silent at this proof that our fearsome enemy still lives, and for a moment each of us just looks around, at a loss for what to do.  But then Thorin is calling to the hobbit, calling for our burglar and he shoves him roughly toward the door.  
  
"Go scout, Bilbo, do the task for which we brought you.  Return to us at the camp when you have discovered something useful."  
  
"You can't send him alone," Kíli protests.  "What if something happens and he needs to send word to us?  At least let me stay here and keep guard."  But the hobbit shakes his head and reminds my brother gently that he is the most skillful at walking by unseen and promises that he will be all right. Then the halfling girds himself and steps softly into the passage.  
  
It is a tense time that follows, Kíli pacing constantly as we wait for a sign of our burglar.  I watch as his face grows darker with every hour and I wonder if I will have to stop him from doing something foolish, something that could hinder us in achieving our goal.  Then, just as I think his nerves are about to break, there is a whisper from above and Kíli smiles brightly as Bilbo slips back into camp, throwing an arm around his shoulders.  
  
"What did you find?"  Thorin asks gruffly, pushing his way to the front of the crowd.  "What of the dragon?"  
  
"Smaug still sleeps, and he sleeps atop a bed of treasure."  The hobbit replies and hands my uncle a large golden cup.  "But even asleep I saw no way for us to kill him.  He is armored with scales thicker than steel and his undersides are crusted with gold and gems.  Yet my father always said that every wyrm has a weak spot so if I return again perhaps I can find out more."  
  
Kíli escorts Bilbo back up the path and then we are waiting again, each of the company passing time in his own way.  Some carve, some pace, some whistle and uncle Thorin sits by the fire as he strokes the golden goblet, the shine of it glinting in his eyes.  It is much longer this time before the hobbit returns once more but when he does his face is alive with excitement.  
  
"I found it," He calls out gladly while running toward us down the path.  "I found Smaug's weak point.  There is a patch of scales on his chest as bare as a newborn babe, where one could surely strike his heart.  It will be difficult, but I think a skilled enough archer could manage it."  
  
Bilbo smiles at my brother while the whole company gives a cheer for this is fine news indeed, and it seems that Kíli's mad hobby will finally pay off.  Yet just as we begin to plan our assault, there is a great roar within the mountain and the ground beneath us trembles.  A stream of fire shoots from the battlements and Smaug roars again as he begins hauling himself into the open air, "Barrel-riders!  Lakemen!  Thieves!"  
  
Boulders start tumbling toward us at the dragon's fury and the distance is too far for even the strongest arrow so Kíli shouts, "Head for the passage!  We cannot fight him here."  
  
The company follows him, racing up the trail, while above us Smaug spreads his great red wings for the first time in more than sixty years. The dragon takes again to the sky as we tumble inside the door and pull it shut behind us.  Outside there is a great rumbling as though half the mountain is coming down and when the dust settles, the secret door is blocked and Smaug is gone.  Thorin sends the burglar to scout but he returns quickly and it seems that the dragon has truly abandoned Erebor.  
  
While we would like to believe that Smaug has fled for good, we know this is doubtful and we must be ready to defeat him when he returns.  So we follow Bilbo down the secret passage until it opens up into an enormous hall, the size of which I did not know existed in the world, and every inch of it is filled with golden treasure.  At the sight, I feel a strange possessiveness well up within me and I see the same light in my uncle's eyes; this gold is **ours** , ours and our people's and of course we will defend it unto death.  
  
However, this new greed just makes our preparations even more urgent because now the thought of Smaug returning to claim my hoard fills my heart with panic.  So we make ready, planning where we will attack when the dragon shows his face again, and setting one of our company to watch the sky at every hour of the day.  
  
While we wait, uncle makes us catalog the kingdom's riches so that we may divide them fairly when the time finally comes- _perhaps it won't though, perhaps it can all be mine?_ -and always, always he searches for the Arkenstone.  The gold lust that fills me when I stare at the heaps of treasure shines twice as brightly on my uncle's face when he speaks of the Heart of the Mountain and as time passes I start to think that he might perish of loss if the stone cannot be found. _Perish then and quickly, so that I may have your share. All of you can die_.  
  
After three days and three nights, Smaug still has not returned and uncle declares that the beast must have perished or fled to distant lands, nevermore to trouble the Lonely Mountain.  He proclaims a great celebration and all of our company spreads out upon the hills of gold, and we feast and sing long into the night.  
  
My uncle toasts the burglar, covering him with praise since without Bilbo we would have had to fight the dragon- _but it's not worth a whole fourteenth share, not really, take it back_ \- and everyone joins in the cheer before drifting to sleep on beds of treasure.  
  
\---  
  
I wake sometime in the night with a desperate need to relieve myself, stumbling toward one of the many entrances that come off of the hall.  After I complete my business, I am walking back with the careful steps of the extremely drunk when I hear voices and nearly trip over the hobbit and my brother.  I pull back quickly since I really do not wish to see them having sex again, but it seems I have stumbled on a far more serious conversation for their clothes are on and their faces dark.  
  
"-give it to Thorin?  It's what he wants."  The hobbit is asking, although I do not know what he speaks about.  
  
"No.  This treasure madness worries me.  Let us wait and keep it just in case."  Kíli answers and his voice is grim.  _Mad he proclaims us, he who is mad for dishonor_.  
  
"In case of what?"  
  
"In case we need the leverage.  Though I truly hope it does not come to that."  My brother rests his head on the hobbit's shoulder tiredly and when Bilbo's arms wrap around him tightly, I turn to leave for I suddenly feel as if I am intruding.  
  
I wander around until I find a soft spot to pass out again and when I wake I can hardly remember the odd conversation at all, especially not with the sight that meets my eyes.  The entire hall before me is filled with birds: small birds, large birds, birds of all colors and shapes, and at their center stands an enormous black raven.  
  
I blink stupidly, wondering if I am still dreaming, but by their surprised cries the rest of the company can see the flock as well.  Uncle gets his act together first, walking up to the raven and greeting him with a bow, and then the giant creature starts to speak.  
  
"I am Roäc the Raven.  I served your grandfather and I would have served your father if the dragon had not come.  I bring you news of the dragon's death."  The raven says in his strange croaking voice, and the company takes heart at his words.  However, when he continues there is no more good news to be had and the mood turns somber and dim instead.  
  
"The dragon Smaug attacked Laketown for daring to aid you and he rained terrible destruction upon its people.  Yet Bard the Bowman, descendant of the last great lord of Dale, drew back his bow and shot the dragon down.  His body fell upon Esgaroth and destroyed Laketown, and many of its people did not survive.  However, those who did have proclaimed Bard the King of Dale reborn and they are on their way here to ask for restitution, joined in this endeavor by the army of the elf king Thranduil."  
  
When Roäc finishes uncle growls, a dark, possessive, hungry sound that resonates with the lust that fills my soul.  "They do not come for restitution, they come to claim our gold!  I knew their hearts were greedy and should they dare to demand my treasure, we will answer them with steel."  
  
 _Of course we will, greedy, filthy, thieves._ The rest of the company sounds our agreement and uncle orders Roäc to travel to the Iron Hills and ask Dáin for aid.  Surely now the Lord of the Ironhills will answer our call and help us defend our recaptured home- _now that the dragon is dead and the gold is unprotected_.  
  
While the members of our company run to prepare, raiding the armory and the treasure hall for equipment that we can use to fight, Kíli stands unmoving at the hobbit's side.  As I am leaving the hall to check on our defenses, I hear my brother ask, "The elves deserve nothing but doesn't Bard have some right to claim reparations for his town?  We swore that the dragon would die by dwarven steel and that oath is broken."  
  
 _Fool!  Give to one, give to all, the gold is ours and ours alone.  He could not have killed the dragon without our actions anyway,_ and it seems that my uncle agrees with me for his furious roar can be heard far down the passage.  
  
So when Bard and Thranduil darken our doorstep and dare to demand a share of our kingdom's gold, Kíli stays silent. He and the hobbit watch with worried eyes as Thorin turns them away, vowing that the pair will claim our family's treasure over his dead body. A few hours later, their messenger comes to say that they intend to do just that and thus our company prepares for siege.

All of us are tense that night with enemies so near at hand and so we watch and guard and sharpen our swords until we can see the light of dawn.  But the morning grants us joy, for Dáin has replied to the plea that we had sent on Roäc's wings, stating that he brings his army to our aid. The news that dwarven steel is coming to protect Erebor from these interlopers gives us courage, and we are smug as we once again turn the human and the elf away.  
  
Yet on the third morning, when Thranduil and Bard come to parley one last time, all our joy quickly disappears.  Instead of offering threats or bargains as before, Bard simply raises a bright and shining jewel above his head.  I gasp in awe because even at this distance I can recognize the Arkenstone, for the Heart of the Mountain calls out to me in a seductive siren's song, and next to me uncle's voice rises in a shriek.  
  
"Where did you get that?"  Thorin screams harshly, but Bard just smirks up at us and replies, "It was given to me by one who was sympathetic to my cause.  I would be glad to trade it to you in exchange for the fourteenth share that is my due."  
  
However, my uncle's only answer is an inarticulate roar and I know that though the desire for the stone burns within him, he cannot bend to this, not when the treasure song weaves within our minds.  He continues frothing until the two kings leave again and then turns and asks with blazing eyes.  
  
"Which of you betrayed me?  Which of you slipped out like a thief in the night?"  Uncle seems ready to attack any of us in his fury and we all back up uneasily beneath his maddened gaze. Except for the hobbit, who stands firm and admits to his wrongdoing with his head held high as he dares to claim that this betrayal was for our own good. The halfling says that he was trying to stop us from dying needlessly and at these words Thorin grabs him swiftly and threatens to cast him down upon the rocks below.  
  
Uncle raises Bilbo high over his head and is about to make good on his threat when Kíli tackles him from the side and sends them tumbling to the stone of the battlements instead. Then my brother stands quickly and shoves the hobbit behind him as he bares his teeth in a snarl.  
  
"Stop this madness!  Yes Bilbo gave the Arkenstone to Bard but he did it with my blessing, because it was the only way to make you all see reason.  We cannot fight the combined armies of Dale and Mirkwood, even if Dáin comes to our aid, and it is folly to try.  Should we somehow win, our victory would still be hollow because every death on either side would be a life wasted, a life sacrificed for your insane possessive pride.  So please, give them Bilbo's share, give them my share if you must, and let us all go home in peace!"  
  
My brother's words are earnest and perhaps even logical but they are nothing to the gold-tinted rage that pounds inside my head.  It all swirls together: this new betrayal, his new rejection and the ongoing denial of the values and honor of our house that has infuriated me throughout this journey.  Though I know somewhere in the back of my mind that I was keeping his secret for a reason, I can no longer remember why and so my hate and wounded jealousy come pouring out.  
  
"Silence!  You have no right to speak of honor, no right to speak of anything!  You have betrayed us all in giving away the greatest treasure of our people and you have betrayed your family in this attempt to sacrifice our home.  
  
How can you speak of wasting lives when you waste your love on this hobbit?  How can you speak of home when you plan to run away with him to live in sin and perfidy?  You talk of peace, but we shall have peace when our enemies are dead!"  
  
Though my words are vicious, Kíli stands firm under the onslaught, meeting my eyes directly and without shame.  The company seems caught between agreement and horror at what I say, and I wonder vaguely if any of them had already guessed.  However, it is uncle's face that my eyes are fixed on for his is the only response that truly matters.  
  
"Is this true?"  He asks softly, and when my brother answers, "From his perspective, yes," he is silent for a long, long time as a shadow forms on his features, a shadow that I cannot penetrate.  
  
When Thorin finally speaks, his voice is the rolling crackle of an avalanche and it sweeps all hope before it.  "You have betrayed us twice over then, once for cowardice and once for folly.  If these were older days your lives would bleed upon my blade for the disgrace that you have caused me.  Yet for the bonds of family and the life debt that I owe, you may keep your heads if not your honor.  You are banished from my sight for as long as I still live and if you wish mercy try the armies on our doorstep, because traitors such as yourselves will find none of that here."  
  
There is sorrow in my brother's eyes but he does not back down, and soon he and Bilbo are climbing carefully down a rope thrown over the edge of the battlements.  I watch them until they have disappeared into the distance toward the human's camp and then I turn back inside, all regret buried under rage.  _He made his choice and he picked the wrong side in this war._  
  
\---  
  
The mood is subdued after Kíli and the hobbit leave, the rest of our company walking on eggshells in order to keep from setting Thorin off again.  I can see doubt on some of their faces and questions in their eyes, but they keep silent and follow orders so I do not have to take them down.  
  
However, it is a relief when Dáin finally arrives and my mind can turn to other things.  When I hear the dwarven horns that signal the arrival of our ally, I rush to the battlements and watch in awe as the three armies maneuver slowly into position; the elves, dwarves and men forming an enormous triangle upon the plain.  
  
I wonder briefly if my brother is out there somewhere and which side he's on, but then I shove the thought aside for it no longer matters.  The rest of the company joins me at my post and we wait with bated breath for the clash to begin, for this is the first opportunity dwarves have had to carve their pain out of Thranduil's elvish hide. Yet suddenly there is a great commotion out upon the field and the armies all turn back.  From this distance we cannot see what has occurred so we send Roäc to discover what he can and when he returns the news is foul.  
  
"It is Gandalf, the Wandering Wizard.  He has arrived with a terrible warning, that an enormous army of orcs and goblins is advancing on the mountain.  It moves swiftly and at its head rides Azog the Defiler come to fulfill his oath.  Thranduil, Bard and Dáin have decided to put aside their hatred to face this greater threat and defend the free folk of Middle Earth."  
  
Though their choice is logical, it infuriates the part of me that wants the elves to suffer, that wants to keep our precious gold as mine alone, so I leave my uncle's council and wander the passageways through the night until the red haze on my vision finally clears.  Then I return to the battlements and discover that the three lords have prepared for the coming onslaught, arranging their armies on the right and left flanks of the mountain in order to fall upon the monsters when they move toward Erebor.  Then I watch as six thousand orcs and goblins with their weapons and their wargs charge into view and once I see them I cannot look away.  
  
At first the plan seems to be working because the creatures run recklessly into the trap and take heavy losses from the armies on their flanks. However, for each monster that is killed, three more take its place and eventually the sheer numbers of the enemy start to push back our allies. I begin to see dwarves fall and cries of loss and agony rise up from the plain.  
  
"They're going to lose," I hear and turn in horror to my uncle who is standing at my side.  Thorin stares down at the battlefield and for the first time in days his eyes are clear of madness and of hate.  His shout rallies the others and then we are racing for the entrance, the best of Erebor's weapons drawn and raised.  We quickly tear down the barrier across the broken doors and then I follow my uncle out into the death and the chaos.  
  
"Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!"  
  
I cry with the others as we slice destruction through our enemies, an arrow aimed at Azog standing in their army's heart.  There is no thinking, only terror and action and my blades bite deeply into goblin flesh as I run across their dying bodies and we race onward toward our goal.  I had always dreamed of the glory of war but even flushed with battle madness I can recognize that there is no glory here, just death and blood and filth and a thousand wasted lives.  
  
Our best hope for ending this war is to take out the monsters' head and soon we are separated from Azog only by the wall of his guards, giant orcs in armor who swing battleaxes with both hands.  Here our advance falters and it seems we will fall short when something flies past me and an arrow sprouts from the forehead of the enormous orc I face.  
  
Thorin and I charge through this opening and stand together as Azog snarls down upon us.  He rides his great white warg once again, now dressed in full armor with his metal claws sharpened to razor points and the mace that broke the Oakenshield raised high.  
  
We dodge, and strike and dodge again, trying to avoid the deadly blows of claw and fangs and steel.  Finally, I see my opening and I lunge in to slash my sword across the white warg's throat but its death shudder throws me to the side and I am helpless to stop it as that giant mace knocks my uncle to the ground.  Thorin manages to stagger upright, ducks under the next blow and buries his sword in Azog's gut before he is hit full on again and crumples to ground.  
  
I run to stand in front of my uncle's body and defend him while I can, but I am fading quickly and I know it.  All too soon one of Azog's strikes knocks my sword from my hands and I stare death in the face when he raises his arm for the final killing blow.  
  
Something slashes me from behind and the world grows dark as I watch the massive weapon fall but then Azog suddenly stumbles back, an arrow in his neck.  _I know that arrow_ , I think looking on the instrument of my salvation and in the distance a faint voice cries out, "The eagles are coming," before I finally succumb to my wounds.  
  
\---  
  
When I wake it is to see Gandalf and the cloth of a tent above me, and though my whole body aches, I am alive.  
  
"Good, you're awake.  Your uncle needs you," the wizard says and this news drives me to my feet despite my pain.  I look around and see that I am in a small tent which contains only one other bed, in which Kíli lays bandaged and asleep, and then Gandalf herds me out the door.  It is a short walk to my uncle's far grander pavilion and when I enter Thorin is there, the hobbit sitting at his side.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  I snarl, but Thorin silences me with a glare.  
  
"I invited him here to make my peace.  I was blind with greed and gold madness just like that which claimed my grandfather and I said many things that I would take back if I could."  
  
"But he betrayed us!"  I stammer in protest, "He should pay."  
  
"Have you not seen enough of fighting, nephew, to want still another war?  The hobbit is a hero to our allies, and indeed he should be a hero to us as well, because this senseless bloodshed is what he and your brother were trying to avoid.  What betrayal there was has been more than repaid, for who do you think helped us to strike Azog's final blow, who do you think stood over us as we lay bleeding on the field?"  
  
I cannot refute his logic there because I recognized my brother's arrow, and in truth that debt is paid.  Yet there is still the greater scar that runs across my heart.  "What of their **relationship** , how can we rebuild Erebor without Kíli at our side?  How can we live with him disgracing our family's name?"  
  
At that my uncle only sighs and looks upon me sadly.  "Not we, Fíli, but you, for despite the best efforts of our healers I will be leaving this world shortly and you will reign as King Under the Mountain in my stead.  And while once I would have agreed with you, I have come to see that the world is not so black and white.  
  
Yes, Kíli has broken our ancient laws but times are changing, nephew, and such acts no longer carry the stigma they once did. You need only ask our companions to discover the truth of that.  
  
I know that you wish to protect you brother from the pain that is to come but you cannot live Kíli's life for him and he has made his choice with open eyes.  Try to remember that if more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier and happier world in which to live. If you continue on this path you will lose your brother forever because while he loves his family, he loves this hobbit more. So you must learn that sometimes standing firm is not the better way and try to find a shred of acceptance in your heart.  
  
If you cannot do that then at least make our people your first priority, our people and not your pride or your ideas of disgrace. If you do this then you will rule Erebor well and the Kingdom Under the Mountain will flourish once again.  I am sorry to leave you to carry this burden so young but you will have support as long as you allow it and I will see you again in Mahal's embrace."  
  
With this farewell, Thorin II Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, passes from the world of Middle Earth, and the crown of Erebor falls into my care.  I grieve then, for how long I do not know, but when I come to my senses I am alone.  There is a choice to be made now and as I consider my uncle's final words, I vow that I will do right by our people, but to accomplish this I must be respected and I must be honored and I do not know if I can grant his last request.  
  
So I leave my uncle's tent and return to my brother who is now awake, sitting in the bed with Bilbo curled up at his side.  Kíli looks at me as I enter and though his expression is neither angry nor pleading, I think he knows the decision that I've made.  
  
"You saved my life even after you were banished and have regained the right to be named among our people.  I would call you brother once again and I wish for you to stand at my side as I rebuild Erebor because your support and your counsel would greatly ease my heart.  However, this cannot be if you insist on staying with the hobbit.  I cannot watch you throw your life away and I cannot accept the loss of respect your love would cost me, not if Erebor is to regain its former glory.  What say you?"  
  
He looks at me and his eyes are almost pitying.  "You know my choice, brother, you have known it for months, which is why you fought so hard to change my mind.  I will follow my heart and return with Bilbo to the Shire, though I wish you all the luck in the world."  
  
"As you desire.  You may stay for uncle's funeral and should you ever change your mind you will always have a place here.  I hope that someday you will see reason."  
  
"And I hope someday you will learn, as uncle did, that the world is not so black and white and love is worth the price."  He turns away from me then and I leave the tent feeling as if I am the one who has been banished, as if I am the who has made a terrible mistake.  But how could that be when I have our laws, propriety, and honor on my side?  
  
 _No, you are the one who will see reason brother; we will see who is right when the day is done.  If I have to wait until your hobbit grows old before this madness fades, then I will wait because time is on my side. And when his hair is white and his body feeble, you will look upon him and see the horror of what you've paid.  You will be alone and have no one else to help you mend your shattered heart, no one but the family that you now reject.  So I will be waiting brother, I will wait as long as it takes for you to return to my side._  
  
Three days pass, three days in which our dead are burned and my uncle is buried in a tomb beneath the mountain, the Arkenstone shining on his breast.  Then I watch from the battlements as Kíli and his hobbit abandon the homeland that the House of Durin fought so long and so hard to reclaim.  
  
And though I stare at them until they finally pass beyond the horizon, my brother never once looks back.

 


	5. Regret

Time passes and though I miss my brother every day, I lose myself in the work of rebuilding Erebor. There is much that must be done to repair the enormous damage that Smaug caused in his attack and in the long centuries that he dwelled within the Lonely Mountain. So for weeks after the Battle of Five Armies, my people must live in tents upon the plain until finally enough debris is cleared and the first dwarves can truly return to Erebor.  
  
However, even then only a small portion of the mountain is liveable: many areas are still blocked off and each cleared passage just brings a further litany of woe. Living areas are filled with thick dust that chokes the air, the remnants of furniture and cloth long since decayed, while the stores of food and other perishables have rotted away and even the mines, the life blood of my kingdom, are in need of much repair before they can be worked again.  
  
Without my grandfather's treasure this task would be hopeless for it may be years before we can produce enough of anything to trade. Each new disaster means that more gold will be required to return Erebor to its former glory and sometimes I do resent the cost. However, on those dark days when I wish that Kíli were here for me to lean on, I remember my uncle's dying words and I know that it will be worth it in the end.  
  
In these hard times, I discover that my traveling companions are invaluable, for as miners, tailors, scholars and tinkers, they are the ones who know what must be done and how.  
  
Even our reluctant allies are actually of some use; although Dáin leaves quickly after the battle is over and our dead buried, many of his dwarves choose to stay and make new lives within my kingdom. They are a vital source of energy and labor for our task since most of my people are still in the Blue Mountains, though hopefully my message will reach them soon. However, the best news is that there is a family of stone-carvers among their number, since only dwarves have the skill needed to heal the scars that the dragon left behind.  
  
Similarly, Thranduil returns to his forest as soon as propriety allows, but the elves remain a ready source of timber and supplies as long as we can pay.  And last but not least, the men rebuilding Dale on our doorstep share many of our problems and thus are often willing to cooperate when a solution can be found.  
  
Now that we are no longer fighting at cross-purposes- _now that he has his share of treasure_ , I find Bard to be a reasonable man and a leader who truly cares about his people. Over the weeks that follow the Battle of Five Armies and its aftermath, the two of us spend long hours in council together, heads bent over reports and maps as we try to find answers to the urgent questions of rebuilding, repopulating and general survival.  
  
Bard is also the first person who dares to ask about my brother, dares to question Kíli's whereabouts. No one else has even noticed his absence, other than the members of our company who already know my brother's fate and have learned not to even think his name within my presence unless they want to feel my wrath.  
  
So when the man mentions that he hasn't seen Kíli for quite some time and asks if he is healing well, I am not sure what to say. I manage to mutter that he is fine through gritted teeth, and Bard seems overjoyed to hear this news.  
  
However, he must not notice how I've stiffened for the man will not let the matter rest. Instead Bard inquires about Kíli's location, wondering if he will be around soon so that they can have their contest, and I want to snap at his impudence.  
  
Yet I force myself to hold my temper because by now I have accepted that Erebor cannot stand alone, not yet, and this man is the finest ally that I have.  Instead I calmly inform him that my brother is in the Shire for the foreseeable future, acting as a diplomat to Bilbo's people and I wait until Bard leaves before my composure cracks and I beat the walls until my fists are bloody.  
  
However, over time the wound scabs over and I find that it actually is nice to have someone whom I can talk to about Kíli without shame. I discover that I needed someone who honestly likes my brother and knows nothing of his dishonor, and I start to think that Bard could become something of a friend.  
  
\---  
  
It would be good to have a friend as the rebuilding stretches ever onward, limited by time and skill and manpower, and I soon discover that as the king true friends are hard to find.  Everyone wants something from me and friendship becomes just another tool used by those whom I do not wish to please, and though my companions and I remain close, my brother stands like a wall between us. None of them agree with my decision to banish Kíli from my sight, not even the eldest, and so I cannot turn to them for solace as before.  
  
I need a friend even more on the day that the first dwarves from Ered Luin finally arrive and I must look my mother in the face and tell her that her brother is no more.  Though I had sent news of Thorin's death with the messengers that called my people home, there is a difference between hearing it and knowing, that final loss of hope when you look upon a tomb.  
  
I support my mother then, because while Dís is strong she has known much grief and there is no shame in tears that fall for family passed beyond.  Yet when she has finished and we are sitting in the royal chambers, mother straightens up and asks the one question that I really do not want to answer.  
  
"Son, what in Mahal's name is going on here?  Where is your younger brother and why will no one meet my eyes when I ask them that question?  Even Dwalin broke and ran after assuring me that Kíli had not died."  Her gaze is stern and I am reminded of my childhood; she would turn that same stare upon us when we were causing trouble and I know that I will crack beneath it soon enough.  
  
"He is alive, mother, he simply isn't here."  I prevaricate, wondering exactly how long I can put off this discussion.  The answer is, unfortunately, not very long at all.  
  
"Fíli, **where** is your brother and precisely **why** is he not here?" _And there's the mother voice.  If I could master that, then I could rule the world_.  
  
Just as I knew I would, I break under her questioning and the whole sordid tale comes pouring out: how Kíli fell in love with the hobbit, his betrayal and the battle, Thorin's words, and the choice that Kíli made in the end.  Mother stays quiet while I speak and when I finish she reaches out and takes me in her arms.  
  
"My poor, poor boys," she whispers as she holds me.  "You must know, Fíli, that your brother's choice was not your fault nor failure. Kíli has always been one to carve his own tunnels and you could not have stopped his heart.  Indeed, I think the attempts we made to mold him hurt us all greatly in the end.  That said, you are an idiot."  
  
My head comes up at this and I wince for though Dís said those words in the same tone as all the rest, I can see the pity and sorrow in her eyes.  
  
"I know that it's our fault as well, your uncle's and mine. After your father died, we spent too much time on Fíli the heir and not enough on Fíli the dwarf because we were terrified that in our exile we would lose that which unites our people.  This is why we raised you with the strictest laws and the highest ideals of honor, so that when our kingdom was reclaimed none could say that the House of Durin was no longer worthy of it's glory.  But we should have let your brother breathe and we should have taught you the difference between doing what is lawful and doing what is right."  
  
Mother must see the total lack of comprehension on my face- _aren't they one and the same?_ \- because she just sighs and shakes her head.  
  
"You will be a good king, I have no fear of that.  I have seen the signs already when I looked upon our people and traveled the halls of Erebor, but my brother was right and the world is changing.  You could have accepted Kíli's choice without destroying all our hopes even if some of the more traditional nobles would have sneered and I think this would have made you happier in the end.  
  
There is more to a family than the honor of its name and you cannot protect the ones you love by choosing their lives for them.  I am not going to tell you what to do and I am not going to pick sides, because you are my king now and you are both my sons.  Just remember that I love you and if you ever want your brother back, **you** must make the first concession."  
  
She kisses me on the forehead and then returns to her rooms, leaving me with much to think about.  
  
 _It seems that everyone is against me, everyone thinks I should have just accepted Kíli's madness, including those who taught me what was right.  Yet even if the world is changing, does that truly change what Mahal requires, can that really be an excuse for forsaking oaths and duty?  Or are we just losing sight of the proper way?  I know that many of my people may choose to follow a similar path given the realities of our population, but shouldn't royalty be held to a higher standard? And time is still on my side._  
  
\---  
  
The first letter arrives some six months after Kíli left, carried on the wings of a messenger raven that is some kin to Roäc.  He delivers it directly to my bedroom window before flying off to roost and when I unroll the scroll to read it, I am a hair's breadth from throwing it into the fire.  
  
  
 _Should you change your mind, your brother is in the Shire, care of Bag End._  
  
  
Just fifteen words written in an unfamiliar looping hand and I know that it must be the hobbit, though I cannot say whether he wishes to taunt me or if he honestly wants me to know my brother's fate.  
  
I think about replying for a moment as I look down upon the paper in my hands. I could give an account of the glory that is returning to Erebor, now that it is finally rebuilt; speak of the trade agreements I worked out with Dale and Mirkwood which have luxuries once again flowing into the Lonely Mountain and of the dwarves coming from miles around to join my reborn kingdom.  
  
I could, but I won't. While the news might make him jealous, Kíli has already proved to care little for gold or riches and to make the first move would be to admit my fault.  
  
So I throw the message in a drawer and put it from my mind as I return to the endless work of ruling a kingdom: the disputes, the laws, the planning, and the thousand and one details that must be done or delegated.  But of course the hobbit cannot end his meddling there and just leave me in peace once and for all.  
  
No, my denial of my brother's existence is challenged again when a scant three months later another scroll arrives, this one in the hands of a group of traders traveling from the west who say that they were asked to pass it on.  
  
  
 _Kíli has made a place for himself in the Shire. He is working as a smith and he is happy now so your promise has been kept.  We will be wed in 6 months time should you wish to send a representative or attend youself._  
  
  
The hobbit's impertinence makes me grind my teeth and crumple the missive in my hand, throwing it in a ball upon my desk. _As though I would wish to celebrate their shameful union even if I had the time._  
  
I do not see the hands that lift it carefully from the wood and smooth it out so that the writing can be read. Although I do notice when a number of my companions and my own mother suddenly wish to take conveniently timed trips in that direction.  However, all of them have plausible excuses and confronting them with the truth would mean acknowledging Kíli's existence which I still cannot bear to do. So instead I turn a blind eye as they ride off to celebrate my greatest failure, laden with gifts far better than my brother's love deserves.  
  
In spite of all my bitterness this does remind me that I should marry soon as well, because no kingdom is truly secure without an heir to hold its future.  Unlike my brother I decide to find my partner through the proper channels and so I have Balin write up a list of suitable dwarf maidens. When I receive his choices, I see that the old dwarf has served me well for while there are few options, they are all from good families and of the proper age.  
  
I begin the selection process immediately because I plan to take my courting slow, despite the small number of women whom I have to choose from. I do not want to be misled by a pretty face or quick smile into making a hasty decision, not when this could make or break the future of my kingdom.  
  
So I use the excuse of honoring old traditions to make the process last and I immediately eliminate those who cannot tell that I am lying through my teeth. Of those dwarrowdams who remain, I eventually narrow it down to three, because I know that I need a spouse who can handle the responsibilities of being a queen and warrior as well as a wife and mother, and only these have seen the battlefield.  
  
After much deliberation, I finally propose to one Helva, daughter of Rundím, for she is fair of face and swift of tongue, and handles her battleaxe and embroidery needles with equal skill.  If I do not love her with the grand passion of my brother, then I think that we will at least be content and work well together.  
  
Thus, when my mother finally returns from her “diplomatic endeavors” in the West, I greet her with the news of my engagement. I am greatly relieved when she seems to approve of my choice and throws herself into planning the royal wedding with somewhat manic glee. _Probably just happy that she finally has a chance of getting grandchildren._  
  
My wedding takes place one year later and the ceremony is a grand affair that will be the talk of all fair peoples for decades yet to come.  We are married in state and in abundance as befits Erebor's restored prosperity and the dwarf-lords from all six other kingdoms send a representative to honor my union in their stead. The fact that most send their heirs is an acknowledgment of my power and it sends a pleased thrill through me to see them standing there as I wait for my bride.  
  
However, once I see her walking toward me such thoughts leave my mind for Helva is truly lovely and I find myself bewitched by the radiant smile on her face. _Perhaps there will be passion after all_ , I muse as I lean down to kiss my new wife firmly and then take her by the arm to greet our guests.  
  
The Kings of Dale and Mirkwood have attended in person as is my due, and so of course they must be the first to speak their congratulations.  Bard gives me an enormous smile and a heartfelt blessing, wishing me all the happiness that his wife has ever brought him and many children to carry on my line. In contrast, Thanduil only inclines his head in one of his condescending nods but I am comforted by the fact that unlike his failure of an outfit, my wedding raiment matches and last month the balance of our trade with the elves finally swung my way.  
  
It is a satisfactory night all around and my marriage is well-consummated so I do not understand what I am still waiting for; I do not understand until I wake the next morning to find another letter on my windowsill and something in me eases.  
  
  
 _Congratulations.  May your marriage be fruitful and your lives be filled with joy._  
  
  
\---  
  
For many years our lives are exactly that and soon a routine of sorts is underway.  Helva takes to being queen as a fish does to swimming and Erebor grows ever stronger with her ruling at my side.  Over time I find that love does indeed grow between us, built upon strong foundations of friendship and respect. While it is a quiet love compared to the whirlwind of my brother's, there is heat as well and I never have any reason to regret my choice.  
  
In fact there is only cause for celebration because our family is truly blessed, more blessed than I could have hoped for and my wife bears me not one but three children to carry on my line.  First, there is the eldest son, named Jilí II after my father and with him alone I would have been content. However, a decade later Mahal grants us a true miracle in the birth of our twin daughters, that rarest treasure of our race.  We call them Frísa and Freyda and they are the light of our kingdom as they grow.  
  
A few times every year, I receive a message from the Shire, written in that same looping hobbit's hand, and often brought back by members of our old company from more "diplomatic missions" in the West.  Most of the notes are innocuous, simply describing how their life is going, or sending congratulations for the milestones in mine, but even then I often feel a sting.  
  
  
 _Kíli finally used some of his earnings to build himself a proper dwarven forge. You should have seen the disgust at the old one and I was tired of the whining. We could have done it sooner but he wanted to pay for it himself. Stubborn dwarf._  
  
  
 _Your brother has been teaching me archery. It began as an excuse to keep his hand in but I've done well enough that he's started talking about training a proper militia in the future. Some of the older hobbits keep asking me to reign him in, but now that I've seen the wider world I'm not sure that I want to. It would be good for us to be able to defend ourselves if the wolves or worse should ever come again._  
  
  
 _We were overjoyed to hear of the birth of your son, though I wonder if you will ever tell him of his uncle. May he live a long and happy life._  
  
  
 _Kíli misses you, you know, in the quiet moments when he turns to speak and discovers no one there. And I'm sure you miss him too, when you allow yourself to feel it. But while I regret your pain, I cannot regret the choice he made, not when Kíli looks at me as though I am a miracle every time I say that I love him. Not when all his nightmares involve me leaving him again. What did you do to make your brother so sure he can't be happy? Why is he so afraid that I will change my mind? Or perhaps it is simply the knowledge that our time is running out._  
  
  
 _I feel that I must apologize for the despair of my last missive because it is spring and time to talk of hopeful things. Sometimes your words just lay heavy on my thoughts and I could hate you for giving me the knowledge that I must break Kíli's heart again. But I will fill the years we have together with joy and love and laughter, and I intend to put off dying as long as I can._  
  
  
 _Did you know that your brother simply cannot dance? He plays a mean fiddle though and says your uncle taught you both. I thought you might wish to know that not all his memories are dark._  
  
  
 _Your daughters are lovely and the Valar have truly blessed your family. I enclosed the pendants that Kíli made for them as soon as he heard the news, though you may do with them what you will._  
  
  
Sometimes I think the hobbit uses me as a confessor because he knows that I will never answer and I have to admit that it comforts me sometimes to know how deeply my brother is still loved. However, though I always read the letters I still cannot admit that I might have been wrong, not even with my brother's gift weighing heavy in my hands.  
  
The pendants are beautiful, graceful flowers finely wrought in mithril and I can feel the love that Kíli forged into each delicate petal, leaf and stem. Yet despite my brother's skill I hide these gifts in the same drawer as all the hobbit's letters and there they gather dust for years, until my daughter changes everything.  
  
My three children are the great joys of my heart, a solace against the daily stress and strife that comes with being king.  I love them all dearly and my son is strong, the spitting image of his grandfather, so as soon as he is ready I begin training him to be my heir.  
  
However, my miracle daughters will always hold a special place in my heart and it is my Freyda who finally changes the way I see the world. While Jilí and Frísa have their mother's even temperament and are happy in the roles that they were born to play, Freyda is as wild as her uncle ever was.  Though born just a few minutes after her sister, the two could not be more different because she is always exploring, always questioning and never content to let things be because they are.  
  
Watching my beloved youngest daughter I am reminded of older days long forgotten, when my little brother smiled just as brilliantly as that. He was such an inquisitive child, always wanting to know the whys behind the world and his face lit up with every new discovery as though life was filled with wonder everywhere he looked.  I remember that light and I remember it dimming.  
  
Every time we had tried to mold Kíli into a more proper dwarven princeling, every time we had shot down another of his dreams, his smile had grown a little fainter and suddenly I realize that my brother had not been happy.  He had not been happy for years and it was only the hobbit who put that joy back in his eyes.  
  
Somehow I had never noticed this before. I had been blind to it, blind to his pain because I assumed that as long as Kíli's life fit my image of what it should be then everything must be fine.   So I hadn't lost my brother to the hobbit, not really, because I had never really known him, not since he was a child tugging at my feet.  
  
The fear that filled me when Kíli first said that he'd choose Bilbo was the truth of the matter after all; the brother I thought I knew was only an illusion, a facade that he created to make my family proud and all of us believed it without question. We failed to see beneath the surface but we were killing Kíli slowly and as soon as he saw his chance he ran for freedom.  
  
 _Can I really blame him?  Can I blame him for rejecting me, for rejecting our family when we'd been making him miserable all his life?_  
  
I had driven off any friends that I thought weren't proper, which was nearly all of them. I had claimed I was protecting him even as I broke his heart and I had been wishing him misery for years in the hope that he'd return to me and act his part again.  In truth, I had tried to shape him in my image as though he were nothing more than iron to be molded and discarded when it did not meet my needs.  The thought of someone treating Freyda like that makes me burn with fury and I know that I would kill anyone who tried to break her spirit like we had broken Kíli's, no matter what excuse they tried to give.  
  
Watching Helva with our daughter, I realize that there truly is a difference between protecting someone when necessary and stifling their spirit.  There was a difference between teaching Kíli how to act as a prince when required and turning his status into a prison on his soul by eternally denying him the chance to be himself and this was a difference that I had failed to recognize.  
  
I see this same knowledge in my mother's eyes and I finally understand what she meant when she had confessed to me her failures.  I finally realize that she was right.  
  
Yet it takes me time to come to grips with this new revelation, time to accept the gravity of my mistake and so for many years I do nothing to correct it.  Though I finally give my brother's pendants to his nieces, I am a coward in my heart and I do not tell my daughters the true source of their gifts. I cannot bear to answer the questions they would ask and I am terrified that Kíli will not forgive me for the damage I have done.  _Why would he forgive me when I cannot forgive myself?_  
  
In fact, I would probably never have done anything, would have left our relationships to lie in ruins and regret if Helva had not tired of my brooding and knocked some sense into my head. She looks at me one evening as we ready ourselves to sleep and asks simply, "Do you want your children to ever meet their uncle?"  
  
"What?  Of course I do."  
  
"Then stop pretending that you don't have a brother and repair your relationship already.  He's hardly going to forgive you if you never even ask and I'd rather you work this out while I'm still young enough to travel."  While a master of diplomacy, my dear wife has never been one to spare hard truths or shy from bluntness when it matters. Though it only occurs to me later that I had never told her about Kíli either and I wonder how she knew.  
  
So the next time that Bofur sneaks out on one of his clandestine visits to the Shire in the name of “exploring new trading partners,” I send a letter along with him and ask him to place it in my brother's hands.  It is a short message, only two lines but I poured all of my regret into the words.  
  
  
 _I am sorry, Kíli, sorry for everything.  I hope one day you will forgive the wrong I've done you and allow me the honor of introducing my family to yours._


	6. Epilogue

It is over twenty years before I see my brother again, although letters pass frequently between us and I finally tell my children the truth about their uncle.  After my initial overture of peace, it takes some time for him to trust my motives and it pains my heart that Kíli's suspicion is so justified.  However, even after we finally agree that we want to meet again, life keeps getting in the way.  
  
First, there are the problems of time and distance since a king can rarely afford to spend months away from his duties and it is a long and dangerous trip for any number of travelers.  Yet these alone could have been overcome if not for all the other matters.  Disputes between two of the major mining clans in Erebor tie my hands for months and then Kíli and Bilbo adopt the hobbit's newly orphaned cousin, whom they can hardly take on such a journey.  
  
I would have brought my family to Hobbiton instead, but then Balin, Ori and a number of my people get it into their heads that now is the perfect time to reclaim Khazad-dûm.  The expedition is well within their rights and I do not begrudge them the wish to reopen those fabled halls, but it means that I am left with a hole in my advisers and no one whom I trust to rule Erebor in my stead.  
  
While Jilí could handle things with Helva there to advise him, I do not think I could handle the reunion without the support of my wife at my side. Balin and Ori at least had apprentices, but it will be ages before their replacements come close to their skill in managing difficult political situations and so I do not dare to leave.  
  
So it is and so it goes.  A food shortage on one hand, a crisis in the iron quality on the other, the Master of Laketown goes mad and runs into the woods and there are a thousand other problems laid upon my shoulders.  By the time that I can breathe again, Bilbo has grown old and Kíli does not wish to risk the trip with only the two of them and Frodo, so we resign ourselves to correspondence once again.  
  
However, in 3001 Frodo finally comes of age and Kíli tells me that Bilbo wants to go on one last great adventure.  They leave Bag End and all that it contains to the young hobbit and set off for Rivendell while I take a company of guards to meet them there and bring them home.  Though I still wish that Helva could have come, the years have mellowed my fears slightly and the thought of our reunion no longer fills me with such dread.  
  
Seeing my brother again destroys any doubts that I still carried, because the joy on his face is indescribable.  Physically Kíli has matured since the days of our quest, though he still lacks a proper beard, and his expression is freer than I have ever seen before, as though a great burden has been lifted from his mind.  He grins at me, wide and open, and I think that this is the real version of my brother, this is the one I've come to know in writing and finally get to meet. I hug him tightly and release him reluctantly before turning to greet the hobbit at his side.  
  
Looking at Bilbo is a shock for age has wreaked havoc on the companion I remember, though Kíli tells me that he looks quite spry for a halfling of his years.  There is a shadow in my brother's eyes at the knowledge that his time is waning, but it is far weaker than the love that still lights his face whenever Bilbo looks his way.  
  
On the return journey I take the time to try and get to know the hobbit properly and while I do not think we will ever be dear friends, we like each other well enough.  I learn to see some of what my brother does: Bilbo's wit and spirit, his compassion and his skill at the crafts he chose to master, and now that I am not trying to sabotage their relationship at every other turn, the halfling finds traits to admire in me as well. Our trip is long and tiring but everything is worth it when the mountain rises before us and I can finally introduce Kíli to my wife and children.  
  
Helva greets my brother warmly and then takes charge of the weary hobbit while my children stare in awe at their storied uncle.  Kíli has them at ease quickly with that skill he has, and they chat happily about their interests and their cares.  My brother is kind to Jilí who is in that awkward stage between dwarfling and adulthood where he takes himself too seriously and yet not seriously enough and he listens with interest when Frísa tells him about her new tapestry.  
  
But it is Freyda who finds a kindred spirit as I always knew she would, and her eyes light up at the confirmation that there is nothing wrong with her for dreaming while Kíli regales them with tales of his undwarvish life.  
  
She quickly explains her current obsession- finding a way to steal Thranduil's giant elk steed and riding to his palace, and when Kíli grins at me over her shoulder I just shrug and sigh.  I am hoping that she outgrows this one, but if not I will enjoy the look on the elf king's face because Freyda's crazy schemes always manage to succeed.  
  
Soon the two have adapted easily to life in Erebor, marveling at the changes and reuniting with old friends.  The remaining members of our company greet them joyously and will hear no word against them while Bard sweeps my brother into an enormous hug and challenges him to a competition, though now old himself.  There are some who look down on Kíli for his choices but they are fewer than I feared, and my brother soon has them eating their words for no one can stand against his charm for long.  
  
Thus pass many years in light and happiness but eventually they start to speak of going home. Bilbo is fading now so Kíli wants to make the journey back to the Shire while the two still can, and though my heart grieves for him, my brother is surprisingly content.  
  
"I've known this was coming from the beginning, Fíli. I've had time to make my peace and I do not regret the life we've had.  Now help me find that wild daughter of yours so I can say a proper goodbye."  
  
The whole family and half the kingdom come to see them off, for they made many friends while they were here and we are sad to see them go.  However, Elrond of Rivendell has also called a council, so I am sending my delegation with them; Gimli and the others will keep them safe upon the road.  I watch them until they disappear and if my eyes grow damp then I am not the only one.  
  
\---

War comes and the world darkens but the knowledge that I reconciled with my brother lets me face the night without regrets.  Though this helps little when the Easterlings attack, pouring down in a bloody tide from the mountains in the North, and the savages fall upon Dale without warning or mercy in their blades. So it is a fell morning in which the great horns of the city sound the alarm and my army marches to its aid, but our enemies are too many to drive back and all I can do is gather the survivors to retreat back within the mountain.  
  
The siege which follows is long and arduous and drags on for many months because while the Easterlings cannot break through the gates of Erebor, they also refuse to go back whence they came. Watching them sack Dale without reprisal is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do and I politely ignore the tears streaming down Brand's face.  
  
Dale's new king is the image of his father, right down to the bow he carries, and I know he loves his city as much as I love the Lonely Mountain.  So I remind him that we can rebuild it once again and there is never a shortage of willing men to stand on the battlements and rain death down upon our foes.  
  
Eventually even as our spirits suffer and our food stores begin to empty, there is word that the great hosts of Sauron have been defeated in the South; that the kingdoms of men have triumphed and his evil power has been forever broken.  At this news we gain new heart while our besiegers' courage breaks and when they flee we march out to cut their armies down.  
  
With Sauron's death there is peace and rebuilding and this time I leave Dale's defenses in the hands of my greatest craftsmen so that such tragedy can never strike again.  These times of peace also mean that when I receive word from my brother I am able to leave Erebor in the capable hands of my wife, my heir and my advisers and ride at speed with Freyda back to Rivendell.  
  
 _The elves have offered Bilbo a place on the last ship leaving Middle Earth for the Undying Lands and I am going with him._  
  
This is what Kíli's message said and when we arrive we find my brother and his hobbit, now white and frail, preparing for one final adventure together.  
  
My brother greets me with a hug and smile and then says simply, "I am glad that you could make it brother.  I wanted to say goodbye."  My eyes fill with tears then for I know I will not see Kíli again, not in this lifetime, and yet I also know that I cannot ask for him to stay.  
  
Freyda too is devastated because she dearly loves her uncle and he is one of the few examples that she has of another wayward soul.  But when my daughter clutches him tight and asks why he has to leave, Kíli just smiles at her sadly as he wipes a tear from her cheek.  
  
"He is my heart, how could I let him go without me?  You will understand one day and I am only sorry that I will not be there to see it."  He gives Freyda his bow then, the one he carved himself so long ago, and she clutches it tight when she promises to remember him forever.  
  
It is a bittersweet sight to watch my brother ride away from me once more and a piece of my heart will go with him as he sails across the sea.  However, I cannot leave my family any more than Kíli could leave his and now that we have reconciled, I have faith that our spirits will meet again someday in Mahal's hands.  
  
  
 _Finis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that for now. This verse will continue with Kíli's side of the story but first I need a break.
> 
> (Try not to cry too hard, this is actually the happier version of the ending and you can thank the various women in Fíli's life for that)


End file.
